Crumbling
by Slivering
Summary: As Rinko becomes more stressed and pressured from work, she begins to take her anger out on Ryoma; what starts off as simply a slap on the cheek slowly becomes physical and mental abuse. However, his friends and team-mates are determined to help him. TezuRyo. COMPLETED!
1. To Hit Your Son

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **So, I generally write Pokemon (If you look through my stories, hehe, you'll notice.) But I recently watched the Prince of Tennis and fell grandly in love, and I fell so in love that it deserved to break my record of only writing Pokeshipping stories and putting a Prince of Tennis story on here. It's about Rinko abusing Ryoma, but it's very slow, so it doesn't really start off as abuse…anyway, enjoy!

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words.

* * *

**Ryoma Echizen hated **mornings.

He felt cold; his eyes hurt; Karupin attacked him. Sometimes, his _baka _father would bang on the door and yell, or barge right inside and throw off his covers. Breakfast demanded all the nutrients and two cartons of Milk from Inui's special nutrition menu. He was also always late for tennis practice so Captain Tezuka would make him run extra laps. On worse days, he would also make him wear extra weights on his ankles.

_I overslept for the third time this week, _Ryoma thought as he shovelled cereal in his mouth. With Nanako out early with a new boyfriend or something like that, the young tennis genius was forced to eat American food. _At this rate, Captain'll throw me off the team._

His mother was pouring milk for him at the counter, her short brown hair spilling over her head as she scurried about the small kitchen. Ryoma watched as she turned her head, pausing, a slight frown on her face. He had been worrying about his mother lately – it wasn't like him to be concerned, but he knew she was being overworked at her job, and she was being pretty irritable.

"Ryoma, aren't you going to be late?" Rinko mumbled, but she didn't seem to be paying attention.

Ryoma shrugged in reply, eyeing the clock, wondering if Momoshiro could haul him a ride again. After all, Momoshiro was late half the days too, so they usually ended up walking or bicycling together. He took another bite out of the soggy cornflakes and grimaced. "Okaa-san…can't you make some Japanese breakfast?"

He watched his mom's back stiffen. "Mada, Ryoma. Honestly, do you think I have the time-"

"Ois, ois. Nevermind." He replied testily.

Rinko tensed, her fingers curled tightly around her coffee cup. She swung around, looking at him with dark, flaming brown eyes. "You don't need to put so much attitude into your words, Ryoma."

Ryoma nearly dropped his spoon. "Huh?"

"Your attitude. I know you're a great tennis player, just like your father, but you have to stop treating your own _mother _like she's less than you."

"Nanni?" he twisted in his seat, suddenly not hungry. His mother rarely scolded him – in fact, she rarely talked to him in general. She was constantly busy with work, and since he was always out playing tennis, they never really had proper face-to-face conversations.

Rinko furrowed her brow, watching as her son looked at her with wide eyes. "I-" she sighed, wiping her brow, before slumping her shoulders. "Just eat."

"So…" There was a long pause. "…no Japanese breakfast?"

There was a large moment of silence as Ryoma waited innocently, knowing he was probably pushing his limits, but hating the taste of soggy cereal in his mouth.

"Why you...you…" Rinko suddenly sputtered. "You _ungrateful brat._"

Ryoma nearly jumped in his chair as his mother shot over to him, raised her hand, and swatted him hard on his cheek. His right hand instantly flew to his face, surprise overwhelming his childish features. His heart rung loudly in his ears and he fought to regain his composure. "Okaa-san?" he asked.

Never in his life had Rinko called him a brat; oh, his father did it all the time. His team members did it too. Even opponents called him that. But never his mother. And in all of his twelve years, his mother had never, ever hit him.

_So then why…for such a small thing… _

"Ryoma…gomensai…" Rinko looked frozen as she stared at the palm of her hand, and then at her son's cheek which had gone slightly pink. "I didn't-didn't mean to." Her eyes were disoriented and confused, her lips pursed in a thin line, her head pounding slightly.

Ryoma blinked. "Whatever."

A smile of relief spread over Rinko's face and she let the guilt go, turning around and taking a long sip from her coffee. Her shoulders hunched tiredly. Ryoma watched his mother's back, still slightly shocked that she had hit him. It hadn't exactly hurt, but a frown edged his lips anyway. His mother was obviously under a lot of stress at work, which was probably why she had become so quickly irritated with him – his frown deepened into a sort of pout as he remembered when Captain Tezuka had hit him. The shock of it was pretty much similar to that occurrence.

His voice, much to his dismay, was rather soft as he spoke. "Where's father?"

"Temple."

"Che."

Ryoma quickly finished his cereal and jumped out of his chair, stuffing his racket into his tennis bag and taking a long gulp of milk from his carton. Pushing in his chair, he moved quickly towards the door – he was late, and for some reason, he wanted to get out of the house. An odd, bad feeling had spread to the pit of his stomach.

_It's not a big deal…she just slapped me…lots of parents do that…right?_

He sighed, his fingers touching the handle of the door.

"_Ryoma, come back into the kitchen._"

His mouth dropped slightly as he heard the angry tone of his mother travel to his ears; she sounded absolutely livid. His fingers instinctevly tightened around the strap of his tennis bag and he made no move to walk back to the kitchen.

"_I said get in the kitchen, Ryoma._"

His brain snapped back into motion and he swiftly strode back in, one hand crammed in his pocket, his black hair sweeping over his eyes. "Okaa-san?" he asked. The moment he saw the look in his mother's eyes, he took a step backward. Her eyes were wild and she didn't look like the gentle, quiet Rinko she normally was. "_Ryoma," _she flung a hand towards his dish and glass. "Don't you even bother to clean up? Or help around the house? Don't you know how disrespectful it is to just _leave _your dish there and just get up?"

Ryoma opened his mouth.

"_Don't speak. _I work my butt off at work every day so I can keep up with your stupid tennis funds, and now that Nanako's gone, I have to do the housework too…and you just _leave your dish there without even bothering to clean it._"

Her breathing was heavy, her face flushed red as she waited for her son to answer. She worked eight hours every day, normally overtime because the tennis school was so expensive, and was now forced to do the housework as well…and her _damned son _couldn't even be bothered to put away his dish?

"I was gunna be late." Ryoma said simply, pulling his tennis cap slightly over his head.

Rinko's jaw dropped at his calm, cool tone, and for some reason, the silly excuse just made her boil even more. Her eyes narrowed into slits and she marched over, throwing his white hat off his head.

"Oka-"

And her palm connected with his cheek once again. He stumbled backwards at the force of it – it was much stronger than before, and his lips parted slightly in disbelief. _What was going on? _He knew about his mother having problems lately, but she never took her stress out on him before. He tried to control his body from shaking as he let his fingers tenderly touch his cheekbone, sliding over. He winced; it actually hurt a bit this time.

Ryoma looked up at his mother.

"Oh…Ryoma…I…" Her anger faded. "I apolog-"

"EH, ECHIZEN, YOU COMING?" Momoshiro's voice travelled through the open kitchen window, confirming that he had been late as well. "I'LL GIVE YOU A LIFT."

With his stomach feeling queasy, Ryoma ignored his mother's apologises and rushed out the door, his cheek still stinging from the impact. The sunlight streamed on his eyes as he walked over to Momoshiro's smiling face.

_It's no big deal. _

_She won't do it again. _

_Everyone gets hit. _

_It's no big deal._


	2. To Ask Momo A Question

** Crumbling**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Aw! I'm so surprised by all the reviews I got! Okay, I have a question. **Who should Ryoma be paired with? **Tezuka, Fuji or Momoshiro… I was thinking of doing Atobe as well but I find him very difficult to write so maybe I'll save that for the future. You're suggestions are appreciated! xD

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words.

* * *

"Hey, Echizen! Hurry up, Captain Tezuka's gunna kill us!"

Ryoma didn't seem to hear him as he slowly walked over to Momoshiro, tennis bag slung over his shoulder, his head ducked down over his hat. His feet seemed to drag across the ground and his shoulders were slumped slightly.

"Echizen, we can't be late." Momoshiro scolded, oblivious to the boy's trudging. "We just can't."

"We're already late." Ryoma grunted, finally looking up. He hoped his cheek didn't look pink; it still stung from when his mother had hit him. He shifted, watching as Momoshiro leaned against his bicycle, examining him. "Something's off, Echizen…something's off."

The boy blinked, before clearing his throat. "Mada Mada Dane."

"You say that to everyone, you little brat!" Momoshiro joked playfully, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward. "Let's hurry, before we miss the whole morning practice itself."

_You little brat…_

Ryoma stopped, pausing, as Momoshiro's words reminded him of his mother's previously. 'You ungrateful brat.' He felt his lips tug into a frown that looked more like a pout, wondering why everyone called him that. He had never minded before, knowing he was better than them all anyway, but it was starting to get annoying.

Or maybe it was just starting to get annoying because his mother called him that – something she never did before. Almost instinctevly, Ryoma's hand went to his cheek, and his eyes softened. "Nanda?" he mumbled to himself.

"Earth to Echizen." Momoshiro shouted. "Get on the bike, or I'm leaving!"

Startled, Ryoma weakly replied, "Ois."

* * *

Morning practice was underway as Momoshiro and Ryoma ran onto the courts. Captain Tezuka was standing in the corner, observing with narrow eyes. Eiji and Kawamara were playing against each other, as were Inui and Fuji. Kaidoh and Oishi were still running laps, and Momoshiro vaguely wondered why.

"Hey guys!" Momoshiro waved his racket as he walked in, Ryoma following closely behind him. It was excruciatingly hot for the morning, the sun beating heavily on the regular's already sweat-dripping faces, and the skies cloudless. The moment Momoshiro spoke up, Tezuka's eyes shot over to them.

"Momoshiro, Echizen, why are you so late?" he said sternly, pursing his lips in a thin line.

"Well, you see, I kind of over-"

"50 laps for coming to practice late, _now_."

Momoshiro's mouth dropped. "_Demo-_"

"Make that 60 laps."

The spikey-haired male clamped his mouth shut, his shoulders drooping as he threw his tennis bag and water bottle down on the bench. Ryoma glared at him menacingly as he did the same. "Thanks a lot Momo-senpai." He said, bending down to tie his shoelace. "You made us get another ten laps."

Momoshiro took a long swig of his water, before twisting the lid shut and wiping his mouth. He shrugged meekly. "I was just trying to explain myself."

"Che," Ryoma scoffed. "Whatever you say, _senpai._"

"You can't show so much attitude to your seniors Echizen. _You just can't._"

Ryoma ignored him as he started into an easy jog, settling into pace and controlling his breathing. Running was something that came naturally to him – even with his shorter strides; he managed to keep up with all of the taller regulars. His feet pounded lightly against the ground as he turned the corner, and he could heard Momoshiro closing in behind him. "Oy, Echizen! Wait for me!"

"Yadda!"

However, despite their athleticism and stamina, by the 40th lap, both Momoshiro and Echizen were panting. The heat had affected them both, and sweat drenched their skin and clothes as the padded around the courts, hearing the tap of the tennis ball from the rest of the players.

"Go Ochibi! Go Ochibi!" Kikumaru yelled as he returned a shot to Taka-san.

Momoshiro frowned and shot Ryoma a look. "How come he's always cheering for you? I'd love some 'Go Momo's' every now and then."

"Okay then." Ryoma smirked. "Go Momo."

The older male rolled his violet eyes, before wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead and speeding up his pace, practically challenging Ryoma. Before they knew it, they were in a desperate competition to see who could reach sixty laps first. As the golden-eyed 12-year old skidded past another turn, his mind strayed to earlier that morning.

"_You ungrateful brat." _

He shook his head brusquely, his stomach feeling queasy again. He still couldn't believe his mother, Rinko, who was always so gentle and composed had – had _hit _him. He instinctevly touched his cheek for the second time that day, which although was no longer sore, still reminded him of the two times she'd done it.

And for what? Showing some attitude? Leaving his dish on the table?

"Echizen, you're slowing down." Momoshiro teased as the breeze ruffled his hair.

"Momo-senpai," Ryoma said breathlessly as he fought to catch up with him. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Are ya trying to distract me or something?"

"Mada…it's just a question."

Momoshiro spun around and proceeded to run backwards, winking at his friend. "Shoot." He encouraged, in a good mood, despite the rolling heat waves. Ryoma felt the words he wanted to ask clog up in his throat, desperate to escape. "It's just…" his voice was tight and suddenly he was embarrassed.

"What is it Echizen? Girl problems?"

Ryoma sighed, fighting off the uneasiness and trying to sound like he couldn't care less about what he was saying. "Say, have your parents ever hit you?"

Momoshiro stopped in his tracks, utterly caught off guard. His feet planted firmly onto the ground and he stared at Ryoma, who had been forced to stop as well, with wide eyes. The younger boy immediately wished he hadn't said anything and pulled the brim of his tennis cap further down his face, hopelessly trying to hide the pale blush forming on his cheeks.

"My parents hitting me?" Momoshiro asked slowly. "_Nanda?_"

"Just asking."

"Did your parents hit you or something?"

"Mada!" Ryoma said a bit too forcefully, shaking his head. He stuffed his hands in his pocket, meeting Momoshiro's eyes and trying to prove that he was simply asking out of curiosity. The purple-eyed teenager found it hard to believe that Ryoma would just ask that out of the blue, but decided to answer anyway.

"Well, there was this one time." Momoshiro said, and they began to run slowly. "I was around your age and I was being reckless. I was on the sidewalk when my tennis ball rolled into the middle of the road…so…I went and got it, but I didn't see a car coming…and I nearly got into an accident…"

"Really?"

"Yeah, well, I was a stupid back then. So anyway, the car stopped just in time, but my parents were so freaked out…so my mom hit me for worrying her so much."

Ryoma swallowed thickly. "I see."

"It wasn't hard or anything. I guess I deserved it." Momoshiro let out a low chuckle.

Ryoma didn't answer as he pumped his legs harder, uncertainty suddenly filling his golden eyes. An uncomfortable feeling formed in the pit of his stomach and suddenly his American breakfast was ready to come up.

_So Momoshiro's got hit before…_

He sprinted harder.

_But for a good reason…my mom hit me…_

He could feel his heart thudding louder by every passing second.

…._for not putting a dish away? _


	3. To Yank Someone's Hair

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Wow. Like, wow. I'm actually shocked at how many reviews I got so far. xD Anyway, nearly everyone suggested Tezuka, so the Pillarpair it is! Um, let's see…I'm going to try updating a chapter once a day, simply because they are so short…however, I'm sure I'll break that rule several times lol since I'm a master procrastinator. Oh well. ^.^ Enjoy!

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

After morning practice, the rest of the day went by uneventfully. Ryoma aced his math test without even reading half the questions, slept luxuriously through English, feigned sick during Gym and got a can of Ponta instead, and let his lab partner do all the work in Science. Afternoon practice whizzed by, and right after, Momoshiro, Eiji and Ryoma went for hamburgers until six.

"Ah, I'm stuffed." Momoshiro patted his stomach, laughing. The sky was darkening and the boiling heat had finally cooled down a smidge.

Eiji folded his arms behind his head. "You sure eat a lot Momo. But I'm surprised Ochibi can keep up with you, being smaller and all."

"I'm not small." Ryoma said as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Of course you are! You're still a cute, itty bitty Ochibi."

Ryoma shot Eiji the most murderous glare he could manage, thoroughly pissed off at being called _cute, itty, bitty _and of course, _Ochibi _all in one sentence. Momoshiro and Eiji both laughed nervously as he glowered at them. "You called him cute?" Momoshiro said incredously to Eiji. "His looks could kill someone. He's anything but cute."

"Ehehe…" Eiji giggled. "Well, bye Momo! Bye Ochibi!"

The bouncy-red head separated from Momoshiro and Ryoma as he took his own path to his house, waving wildly behind him and singing loudly to himself all the while. Momoshiro and Ryoma continued to walk in a comfortable silence, a soft breeze blowing in the air, ruffling their hair. In less than a few minutes, they reached the golden-eyed boy's house: an old-fashioned shrine.

"See ya, Echizen!"

"Bye Momo-senpai."

Ryoma walked up the front steps of his home, his stomach suddenly filling with butterflies. His calmness while walking with Momoshiro disappeared and he succumbed to a jerky feeling of dread. His mother had to be back from work by now, since he'd come home so late, and the events from the morning swirled in his head once again.

_She's probably back to normal…_

Ryoma straightened up and walked in. The cool air-conditioning felt delightful against him and slowly his nerves vanished. He slipped off his shoes and silently walked inside. He could smell something cooking in the kitchen and poked his head in to see his father and mother sitting at the table while Nanako made a meal at the counter.

"I'm home." Ryoma announced.

Nanako whirled around and gave him a friendly smile. "Welcome home, Ryoma. How was your day?"

"Fine."

"Ha, well look who's finally home." Nanjiro Echizen peered up from his magazine and snickered at his son. "Late for dinner as usual, kid."

"Reading your perverted magazines as usual, old man."

Nanjiro just shook his head and crammed food in his mouth, continuing to pleasurably read his magazine. Ryoma slipped into the chair beside his father, stuffing his hands in his pocket and pretending to look bored – although not much pretending was involved. His eyes drifted to Rinko who was sitting solemnly across from him, not meeting his eyes.

The awkwardness was thick and Ryoma knew his mother had not forgotten about the morning.

"Ryoma, do you want anything to eat?" Nanako asked.

Ryoma shook his head. "Mada, I ate out with Momo-senpai and Kikumaru senpai."

"You're always out with your friends these days. You're barely ever home." Rinko spoke up, her tone stiff and bitter. She tucked a strand of chocolate hair behind her ear. "When do you get time to do your homework? Or study for exams?"

Ryoma looked surprised. "I – I don't need to study."

"What do you mean you don't _need _to study?" Rinko was horrified. "Honestly Ryoma, just because tennis is your goal in life doesn't mean your education isn't important."

"But I'm getting 90's in every class without even trying."

Rinko frowned deeply, taking a sip of water. "I don't approve of you always being out until late." Her voice was tight and defiant. "Do I need to set a curfew?"

Ryoma was starting to get annoyed. He wasn't a little kid anymore – he had things to do, places to go, tennis to practice – what was the point of staying home and doing nothing? He glanced at his father who was pretending to be engrossed in his magazine but Ryoma could tell he had been listening to the whole conversation. Nanako seemed to be paying attention as well even as she pretended to hum and do the dishes.

Wanting the prospect of a curfew to stop, Ryoma didn't answer his mother. He simply stared at the table for a long moment, wondering if it would be too rude to get up and go play tennis.

"Ryoma?"

The boy looked up to see Rinko holding her now empty glass of water. Her voice was calm and polite, but for some reason, Ryoma sensed she was still upset with him. "Would you mind filling me another glass of water?"

Ryoma shrugged. "Nanak-"

"Don't ask your cousin." Rinko snapped. "I asked _you_."

He blinked. "But she's right at the sink so-"

Rinko's eyes flamed as he tried to argue – that was all he did these days; argue, make excuses, be lazy, show his cocky attitude – and the brown-haired women was sick of it. For goodness sakes, all she'd asked was for a glass of water and he couldn't even handle that. "Get up and get me a glass of water, Ryoma."

"_Demo-_"

"Stop with your _arguing._" Rinko suddenly stood up and pushed her chair back, her eyes lighting up with anger. She marched over to him and grabbed a fistful of his midnight hair, yanking at them to pull him upwards.

Ryoma yelped in surprise, followed by pain. "Let go." He struggled as she pulled at his hair to make him stand, lifting his feet an inch off the ground. His hair felt like it was going to fall off, and it hurt so much that he could feel his eyes watering from the damage. "_Let go._" He repeated.

"Auntie." Nanako watched in horror, wringing her hands helplessly.

"Why do you always _complain a_nd _argue_?" Rinko said, curling her hands tighter around her son's poor black locks. She could feel him trembling underneath her, and for some odd reason, it filled her with slight happiness. For _once_, she had the upper hand. _She w_as the one telling him what to do, instead of the other way around.

"Nngh, s-stop." Ryoma's eyes stung as she grasped his hair tighter and tighter. _Its gunna fall off, Omigod, I'm gunna go bald, its gunna fall off…_

Just then, a loud clang filled the room as Nanjiro slammed his chair into the table and stood up. His eyes were blazing. "Rinko," he said, his voice eerily serious. "Put him down."

Rinko's eyes flashed as if she'd snapped back into reality. A short gasp escaped her as she heard Nanjiro's voice, so steely and cold. She let go.

Ryoma dropped to the floor with a thud.


	4. To Blame The Victim

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Ahhh! I'm so excited by all the reviews I'm getting. Thanks so much everyone! Anyway, not much to say in this one but…_enjoy!_

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

The tension in Ryoma's forehead released and he let out a small 'ouch' as he dropped to the floor. His fingers still shaking, he pushed his hair back down into its normal position. His heart rung loudly in his ears; the whole kitchen was silent. Slowly, he let his eyes meet his mother's, who wasn't paying the least bit of attention to him.

She was looking at his father with pleading eyes. "Gomensai, I didn't mean to hurt him…"

"You _yanked _him off the chair with his _hair_."

Rinko stifled a sob as she clenched her fingers into a tight fist, wondering why everyone had to go against her – it wasn't _her _fault he was always such a brat. He deserved to be punished for always being so ignorant and arrogant. Was it so horrible that she put him in his place?

"He was being rude."

Nanjiroh looked her dead in the eye. "He's _Ryoma, _what did you expect him to be?"

"I didn't do anything wrong. Everyone should be punished once in a while."

"You _yanked _him off his chair with his _hair._" The normally silly adult repeated.

Ryoma glanced at his two parents and briefly touched his hair again, glad to be out of his mother's hold. He shivered involuntarily and hugged himself, pulling his knees up to his chest. It wasn't normal. It wasn't normal at all. First, in the morning, she hit him twice…and now _this_? What was he doing wrong, anyway? He was acting like he always did.

"I really do think he deserved it though, although I may have been a bit too harsh." Rinko said, shooting a look at her small-framed son and frowning deeply. "He needs to learn how to respect people."

"Che, Rinko, admit it. You went way too far."

Rinko's mouth quivered as Nanjiroh settled a glare her way. She could feel ire pulsing through her body – why was he mad at _her _and not her s_tupid son_?

"You should be mad at our stupid son, not me." She expressed her thoughts.

"Stupid?" Nanjiroh said. "He may be uncute, cocky as hell, a total brat…but c'mon Rinko, what's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into _you_? Since when were you so protective about Ryoma anyway?" Rinko gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing darkly. Ryoma watched his mother and father argue and felt a vague feeling of sadness bury in the pit of his stomach; he was never a very emotional person, but then, there was never any drama with his family. His father and mother rarely fought – they bickered occasionally but most of the time everyone went along doing their own business.

"Ryoma?"

The boy looked up to see Nanako tugging at his shirt gently. "You should go to sleep. You have tennis practice early tomorrow."

Ryoma watched as her eyes darted worriedly towards his parents – maybe Nanako was right. Maybe he needed to go upstairs into his room, go to sleep, and wake up like nothing ever happened. Maybe when he woke up, everybody would forget about everything and things would return to normal. With a straight, cold expression, Ryoma stood up and walked up the stairwell.

Nanako's eyes glimmered.

_Poor kid._

* * *

Ryoma buried his face tighter under his blankets, feeling like his chest was going to explode from his fast-beating heart. His large golden eyes stared into the darkness of his bedroom, taking in the shadowy shapes and the outline of his furniture. His fingers absentmindedly stroked through Karupin's fur.

The yelling was getting louder and louder and _louder._

When his parents had started arguing downstairs, Ryoma had never expected it to turn into a full-fledged fight. He had gone upstairs like Nanako had requested, took a long shower, changed into his PJ's, and had been ready to fall asleep from emotional exhaustion. But he couldn't ignore the back and forth retorts that reached his door – instead, he found himself straining to hear every word.

"You never even care about him! What's the big deal? I just pulled at his hair a bit, that's all." Rinko's sobbing voice crept to his ears and he bit his lip hard.

"You did it for no reason." Nanjiroh said. "I know work's been pitiful for you, but that's no reason to take it out on the kid."

Rinko screamed, "The 'kid' is the most ungrateful person I've ever met."

"_Rinko!_" Nanjiroh bellowed.

Ryoma wished their voices would fade and disappear. He had early morning practice tomorrow and if he was late again, Captain Tezuka would surely start to get pissed off. He hadn't seemed the slightest bit happy when Ryoma and Momoshiro had come late – next time, it wouldn't be laps. Probably some kind of punishment like not being able to play for a tournament or something.

Besides, the midnight-haired boy's eyes felt heavy and his body ached from morning and afternoon practice. He _wanted _to sleep, but he also wanted to hear what was happening. The yelling was so loud and awkward; it filled his house weirdly, bouncing off the walls and echoing in his ears. Nobody ever raised their voice in his house – even Nanako was crying out for his parents to stop fighting.

_And it's all my fault. _

Ryoma stiffened, jerking his head. No, he wouldn't think that way. He wouldn't become like every other kid and blame himself for things that he never did. Despite his resolve, his stomach turned unhappily and he could feel the corners of his lips forming into a scowl that was more of a pout.

_I just wish my mom could stop acting so we-_

Ryoma suddenly broke from his thoughts as he heard a loud slam. A moment after, an eerie silence blanketed over the whole house. He could hear footsteps padding into the room across from him, and comfort eased over his body. Finally, silence.

He could sleep.

Trying to forget about the events of the day, the small boy gentle snuggled into his blankets, closing his huge orbs. He could feel the tension release from his body and let himself be carried off into dreamland.

Except.

Except the moment he closed his eyes, the door suddenly flung open and his lights were flashed on. Ryoma made a little noise with his mouth as he propped himself up on one elbow, squinting from the brightness. "Nanako?" he wondered, looking at the entrance.

His eyes widened as he saw his mother, standing with one hand on her hip, her whole face twisted into some sort of angry façade.

"You stupid, stupid boy." Her voice was sickeningly sweet, and for a split second, Ryoma didn't know who this was. It wasn't his cheerful, caring mother. It wasn't. "You'll regret making me and your father fight."

And in another split second, for the first time ever, Ryoma felt fear shudder through his body.

_So it was my fault after all. _


	5. To Hit Even Harder

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Ehehehe! Here's another chapter! xD Enjoy**! I really struggled with writing this one – I mean, I wasn't in the mood to write, but I didn't wanna break my record of posting a chapter every day so here ya go! It kinda SUCKS! My apologies!**

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

Rinko stormed over to her wide-eyed son, short hair peaking over her blazing pupils. Anger pulsed through her body, and a smile crept on her face as she saw the fear shaking through Ryoma's body. Even as he tried to keep a normal expression, anyone could see he was scared.

"You know, your father and I never fight." She said slowly. "However, your attitude caused us to…so you're a very bad little boy. And you know what bad little boys get?

Ryoma was seriously starting to get freaked out and annoyed at the same time. Since when was he a _little _boy?

"They get punished." Rinko said.

Ryoma backed into his pillow, feeling the cool material soothe his neck. His fists curled and uncurled and his large golden-green eyes were welled up with worry. He tried to control his rapidly increasing breathing and struggled to regain his composure. After a moment, he closed his eyes and lifted his chin slightly. "Che, it's not my fault."

Rinko took a step forward. "It _was _your fault."

"Not really, Okaa-san. Anyway, I have tennis practice tomorrow morning so I kinda need to sleep." Ryoma hoped that acting normal himself could get everything else to turn normal. He gave his mother a small shrug before getting under the covers, lifting the blanket over half his face.

"_Ryoma._" His mother screeched.

Ryoma ignored her, his heart roaring in his ears – _just ignore her. She'll go away soon enough, and then tomorrow, everything will turn normal again and-_

Suddenly, coldness hit his body as his blankets were thrown off of him, leaving him exposed in his baby blue pajamas. He whirled onto his back to see his mother leaning over him with the most resentful expression on her face. "Did you just ignore me?" she said. "_Did you_?"

The tennis prodigy shivered. "Uh, kinda."

Her lips curled into a sinister smile. "That was a very bad mistake, you very bad little boy."

Ryoma tried to make himself as small as possible as she leaned down closer – so close that she was breathing down his neck – and whispered, "Very bad." Every muscle in his body clenched and he held his breath, feeling her sharp fingernails drag across his collarbone; not painful enough to hurt but hard enough to make him stiffen up. She hissed nothings in his ear, everyone from "It's your fault we were fighting," to "Stop being such an ignorant brat."

Ryoma wasn't sure what to do – he just felt a strong feeling of unhappiness press down on him, and he involuntarily shivered again.

"Stop shaking!"

Without a clue of what to reply, he said what he said best. "Ma-mada mada dane, Okaa-san."

Normally, when he said that saying, she would smile even if she was having a bad day. It was his trademark catchphrase and nobody, besides people who didn't know him, ever got mad at him for it.

"_What did you just say?"_

Ryoma dug his fingernails into his sheets. "Mada…mada dane."

As if putting all her stored up anger into one hit, Rinko leaned backwards slightly. "_Shut up._" Before Ryoma could adjust to what was happening, she shot a harsh backhand at his face, sending him tumbling onto his bed in a lying-down position.

Ryoma's eyes widened and a small sound of disbelief escaped his throat. It hurt. His fingers shook as he brought them to his cheek, and he winced as pain darted through him. The first time, the impacts hadn't been too harmful – now, however, he was sure there was a bruise to be left. He felt relief storm over him as his mother stood up and took a few steps away from him.

He could breathe again.

"Well then," she rubbed her hands against each other quickly. "That was a good enough punishment, don't you think?"

Ryoma pressed his index finger against his cheek again, and bit his lip hard. _It hurt like hell. _

"Also, remember, we don't tell your father about this." Rinko stated matter-of-factly, sending him a warning glare that was much stronger than ever before. Her face contorted to a smug smirk that sent shivers down his back. "You don't want _him _to become stressed as well, do you?"

Ryoma stared at her helplessly, and decided the least painful option would be to simply agree. "Okay, Okaa-san."

* * *

The next morning, Ryoma left extra early to avoid confronting anybody in his family. He gulped down two cartons of milk; brought a bagel to eat while he walked, and hoped nobody would notice the reddish mark on his cheek. He knew he was kidding himself though – the first thing he had realized that morning while brushing his teeth was that a very visible bruise was left from where Rinko had hit him.

_Oh well, _he thought. _I'll just have to make up some excuse._

Arriving at the tennis courts early was very weird. The changing room was completely empty, instead of bustling with laughter and yelling. Ryoma quickly changed into shorts, his regular t-shirt and jacket, swiping a comb through his black-emerald hair. For a moment, he just stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The red mark seemed redder than before, and he brushed his hand over it. It didn't hurt that much anymore and was merely sore, yet his insides trembled as he thought about _who _had done it and _why s_he had. The physical pain of the hit was gone but the emotional part was still there – _Okaa-san actually hit me…__hard._

He still had a difficult time grasping that.

Suddenly, he heard the door to the changeroom click open. _Crap, _he thought, steadying his mood. He straightened up and tried not to look like he'd been studying himself in the mirror for the past ten minutes. He unzipped his tennis bag and casually took out his racket, pretending to examine the strings.

"Echizen?"

_Oh no. _

Tezuka looked surprised as he faced the smaller boy. He was always the first to arrive to practices, followed by Oishi, and Ryoma had always been a late arriver. However, here he was, observing his racket strings and not looking half-dead from sleeping.

"You're early." The Captain noted, unzipping his own tennis bag.

Ryoma mumbled. "Ois."

Captain Tezuka raised an eyebrow at his meek voice, once again surprised. He couldn't hear any edge or overexerted confidence in it. "Are you alright?" he said formally. He didn't want the younger teammate to think he was worrying about him if there was no particular reason.

"Of course."

His reply was curt, like Ryoma always spoke, but Tezuka still couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

He put down his racket and approached the 12-year old, who in response, jerked his head away and started to put his tennis racket back in his bag. Tezuka watched his tense, erratic movements and his lips pursed in a thin line. "Echizen, look at me."

He saw the muscles in Ryoma's body freeze. "Nanda?"

"Just look at me."

"Mada."

"_Echizen._"

Ryoma slowly, almost hesitantly turned around, his feet sliding across the smooth floor. His head was still ducked down, and after a long few seconds, he lifted it up.

Tezuka's jaw went slack.

Ryoma's lip quivered.

"_What happened to your face?_"


	6. To Be Under Tezuka's Wrath

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Sorry about not updating yesterday! But ya know, it was Halloween, so my friends and I were watching movies xD Plus, I had an essay due so I had absolutely no time to write. Anyway, here's another chapter!

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

Ryoma took a flustered step back. "Um…I was playing tennis and some kid hit it at my face."

"Is that so?" Tezuka eyed the red bruise intently, wondering just _how _hard someone could hit a tennis ball. He knew Ryoma was skilled enough to normally dodge or return most balls to the face, so it was surprising that his opponent could even have a chance to hurt Echizen.

Tezuka watched as the younger boy pulled his cap over his eyes, feet shifting impatiently. _He's lying, _the captain thought to himself.

"Uh, Captain…" Ryoma cleared his throat. "May I go play tennis now?"

Tezuka crossed his arms, deciding not to confront him yet. "Go, but do twenty laps first to warm up."

"_Hai._"

As Tezuka observed Ryoma walking out of the changeroom, he couldn't help but notice that his movements seemed tense and stiff – almost like he had lost all his confidence overnight. It could be perhaps he just had an off morning, but the red bruise on his cheek seemed to indicate that there was something more to it.

The captain decided he would keep a close watch on the boy from now on, just to confirm that nothing was wrong.

* * *

"Ochibi! Ochibi!" Kikumaru bounded over to the tennis prodigy and engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug. "_How was your morning?_"

Ryoma sucked in his breath as he tried to wrestle out of Kikumaru's grasp. He had done his twenty laps and stretching already, and had just started hitting the tennis ball against the fence when his _wonderful _senpai had showed up and attacked him. "Fine." He managed, before pulling out of Kikumaru's hold.

Kikumaru put his racket behind his shoulder. "Hoi, Ochibi, wanna play a warm-up match? I wanna show you my super new acrobati-" the red-head stopped as he noticed something. "Ochibi…" he said. "W-what happened to your cheek?"

"Some baka aimed at my face when I was playing tennis." Ryoma's answer was quick and his eyes darted to the floor. Luckily, Kikumaru wasn't very good at picking up on emotions, so his downcast face was rapidly replaced with a smile. "But I bet you got him back good, nya? Now let's play a match."

Ryoma simply nodded, relieved.

As Kikumaru and Ryoma finished one game into their match, the rest of the regulars started to file in: Oishi, Kaidoh, Inui, Kawamara, Fuji, and lastly, Momoshiro. All of them, at one point, questioned Ryoma about his face. Oishi had been drastically concerned, but once Ryoma explained himself, he easily believed him. Kaidoh, Inui, and Fuji all seemed slightly suspicious about his response while Kawamara and Momoshiro were curious but waved it off nonetheless.

Ryoma was glad nobody seemed to be making a big deal of it. He swept forward and hit the ball back to Kikumaru, letting his tennis instincts take over the game that was currently going 4-5, in his favour.

He was slightly surprised that he was only one game ahead of Kikumaru, but he assumed it was because of the red-head's new acrobatic move.

"Hoi, Hoi, I'm not letting you take this one Ochibi!"

"Saa…" Ryoma smirked, bending his knees slightly as he prepared for the return. The ball whizzed past the net and the 12-year old sprinted toward the baseline. _Kikumaru's shots have gotten faster… _he thought. _But not fast enough for me…_

The boy swung his racket back, just about to hit the ball.

"Echizen!"

Ryoma stopped. "Huh?"

The ball cleanly skidded past him.

Kikumaru whooped in response, doing a little dance as he threw his racket up in the air. He caught it firmly with one hand. "Yay, I got a point on Ochibi." He shot Ryoma a megawatt smile and jogged back to his position at the baseline. However, Ryoma wasn't paying attention to him.

The boy had a small frown on his face as he looked at Captain Tezuka. _He_ _made me lose a point… _Ryoma thought to himself as he dragged himself over to where his senpai was waiting. It was odd for the captain to interrupt a game, so Ryoma figured it must be something important.

"What?" he asked bluntly when he approached him.

Captain Tezuka's cool brown eyes studied him. "Echizen, you're playing sloppy today. You seem to be struggling to reach Kikumaru's shots even when they are at normal speed."

_Ha, well, you're not the one who has to figure out an excuse to not go home because your mother has turned into an evil witch, now are you?_ Ryoma thought. He knew his focus wasn't in the game because his mind was still mingling with everything that had happened yesterday. "I'm winning." Ryoma finally replied.

"By one game."

Ryoma wished Tezuka would stop interrogating him. "Gomensai," he said quickly. "I'll play better."

"Echizen, you aren't acting like yourself."

A deep scowl formed on the smaller boy's face and he brought his racket to the ground. He grinded it against the hard gravel. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. Why was it that the entire world needed to question him simply because he got a little mark on his cheek?

"I'm fine." He nearly spat.

Tezuka parted his lips and sighed almost inaudibly. He stepped forward slightly. After a long moment of silence, simply them staring at one another, he spoke in a gruff voice. "Tell me what really happened to your cheek."

"H-huh?" Ryoma was startled, and he could feel heat rising to his face. _He…but he believed me! Did he know all along… _his heart sunk and he fiddled with the grip of his racket, his heart thumping in his chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Echizen, it is clear that a tennis ball didn't hit your face. I could tell you were lying about it before."

"Che."

"So what really happened?"

Ryoma refused to answer and stubbornly kept silent.

Tezuka waited.

After a minute of nothing, the older tennis player pushed his hair out of his face and shot Ryoma a stern look. "Since you are disobeying me orders, I will ask that you sit out for the rest of the practice – or until you decide to explain how you injured yourself truthfully."

Ryoma's stomach plummeted. "Nani?"

Tezuka pointed to the bench. "Right over there."

It was embarrassing enough that Tezuka had caught him lying, but it was injuring his pride to make him sit out on a practice. He could feel anger growling through his body – even if it was just practice – and his toes curled in his shoes. His captain was really taking advantage of his power by forcing him to not be able to play tennis just because he wouldn't spill personal things.

It was personal, wasn't it? Was he even allowed to try to bargain with him like that?

Ryoma mustered the iciest stare he could towards Tezuka before stalking over to the benches and sitting down, feeling miserable and lonely. He wasn't very familiar with the feelings. He watched as the rest of the regulars played against each other, smiling, the sun sparkling on their faces – it wasn't fair. He bet their mothers didn't turn into mean monsters overnight like his did. Ryoma's fingers tightened around his racket, almost to the point of turning white. He was itching to play suddenly – to fight off all these emotions and get rid of them.

But he couldn't.

_Captain's orders… _he thought unhappily.

About 30 minutes later, practice finally ended. Everyone was breathless and laughing as they made their way to the changeroom. As Ryoma stood up and tucked his tennis racket into his backpack, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey, Echizen, wanna come for burgers again?" Momoshiro asked.

_Yes…then maybe after that, I sleep over at your house too. Or how about forever? _Ryoma nodded, opening his mouth to reply.

"He won't be coming." A smooth voice interrupted.

Both Momoshiro and Ryoma whirled around to see Tezuka standing behind them, his usual poker-face expression adorned on his handsome features. He wasn't even looking at Momoshiro; only Ryoma.

"What…what do you mean I can't?" Ryoma said, almost defiantly. He hoped he wasn't crossing the line. However, he was getting a little irritated. Just because he wouldn't tell the captain what was going on didn't mean he had permission to make outside-of-tennis decisions for him.

"Yeah, Captain…why can't Echizen go?" Momoshiro slipped on his regular jacket. They both waited anxiously for him to reply.

Tezuka's answer was crisp.

"Ryoma's coming to my house tonight."

The expression on Ryoma's face was priceless.


	7. To Face Sixty Seconds

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **I know, I know…I didn't update yesterday. xD This updating every day is going to be hard, so I may not do it every day, but frequently for sure. :**D I don't really like this chapter much, it doesn't flow well, but **_**oh well. **_

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

"Echizen's going to your house, Captain?" Momoshiro squinted in disbelief, his hair damp from sweat. Tezuka simply nodded, ignoring the bewildered expression on Ryoma's face. The brown-haired man gestured a little nod that told Momoshiro to 'get on his way'.

"I-I'll be going then." Momoshiro's eyes darted to Ryoma who looked utterly confused as well. "Uh, see ya tomorrow, Echizen!"

Ryoma didn't respond; he clenched his hand tighter around the strap of his tennis bag. "Captain…what…why am I going to your house?"

"I just have something I want to talk to you about." Tezuka said vaguely, the evening sunset reflecting off his graceful features. "It's…about tennis."

Ryoma's ears perked. "Really? What is it?"

Tezuka watched as the younger boy's golden eyes lit up at the subtle mention of his passion. "Let's talk at my house, ne?" his voice was silky.

"Okay." Ryoma wasn't exactly sure why he had to go to the Captain's house, but it was about tennis, and it saved him extra time from going to his _own _house, so he wasn't about to complain. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he followed Tezuka out of the tennis courts.

It was a very vibrant evening. The sky contrasted brilliant purples and blues; sunlight orange melted into the hilly trees beyond the city; the breeze was gentle and filled with hope. Ryoma tagged behind Tezuka silently, his sneakers sliding across the sidewalk pavement and the noise of the electricity lines buzzing faintly in his ears.

"My house is a little far." Tezuka glanced over at the small boy behind him. His eyebrows rose – Ryoma looked so lost, so vulnerable. The little light left in the evening brought a shine to his face, but his eyes were wide and fragile.

The freshman nodded. "I don't mind."

_Ring, ring, ring. _

Ryoma stopped in his tracks as his cell phone beeped loudly from his pocket. "Excuse me," he briskly picked up the phone, watching as Tezuka stopped and waited patiently.

"Hello?"

"_Ryoma, _it's your mother."

Ryoma's body tensed. "Okaa-san? What is it?"

"Well," her voice was sickeningly sweet. "I know you have tennis practice today, but it ends at 6:00, right? So I expect you home at 6:30, so no eating burgers with your friends."

"Demo…"

The reply was snarky. "If you're not here by 6:30, hear me that there _will _be a severe punishment."

Fear erupted through his body and he nodded shakily, titling his head away from Tezuka. "Okay." He whispered. He slowly let his arm drop to his side, hand clutching his cell. He could feel his captain's eyes on him, deep and focused.

"Uh, captain…" Ryoma forced himself to sound calm. He could hear a slight tremor in his own voice and immediately attempted to smooth it. "I can't…come to your house tonight."

Tezuka merely raised an eyebrow. "Nanda?"

"Uh, my mother called and she said I had to be home by 6:30…" he could feel the sweat on his palms as he gripped his phone. "…homework and such."

The captain of Seigaku observed Ryoma with a slight, almost invisible frown. The boy looked so nervous and fidgety, so, so…_unlike _him. He waited, shifting, for the Captain's approval and Tezuka couldn't help but inwardly wince as he saw Ryoma's red bruise.

_Must have been painful, _Tezuka thought. _I guess I'll have to wait to find out what he's hiding. _

"Fine." He finally answered. "You can go."

Ryoma nodded hurriedly, before turning on his heel and jogging towards the direction of his house. He could feel his heart roaring in his ears and he hoped with everything he could that Tezuka wasn't getting too suspicious of him. He knew he was acting weird.

When he reached his house, he was slightly out of breath, but mainly worry clawed at his stomach.

Ryoma stood in front of the door. His father was probably out at the temple again, or on a hunt for cute girls – the tennis genius figured that was _all _his father was good at. Besides tennis itself, of course. Nanako might be home – or, at least, he _hoped _his cousin was home.

Pressing his lips in a thin line, he walked inside and kicked his shoes off. The yellow lights of the house shone over the stairwell and walls. "I'm home," he said, his voice echoeing through the entrance corridor.

"You're late."

Ryoma's heart dropped.

His eyes flew to the clock.

_6:31._

Godamn his life.

His mother appeared from the kitchen, sported in a loose pink sweater and sweatpants. Her hair was up in a messy bun, fringes of brown hair framing her face. Her smile was twisted and the glint in her brown eyes was murderous. "I told you to be back my 6:30."

"_Gomen."_ Ryoma backed away instinctevly.

"Sorry? Are you serious Ryoma? _Can't you just listen to me for __once__ in your life_?"

Ryoma swallowed hard, wondering if he should make a run for it. The silence, or lack of greeting proved that neither his father nor Nanako were home at the moment. At first, he had been worried about his mother's behaviour. He had thought she was only acting violent because of the stress from work.

But today, as he looked at the amusement dancing in her eyes, he had a sick feeling that she was _enjoying _this.

"Well, I'm sticking to my words." Rinko glared at him. "I told you that you would be punished if you were late, and now, you are going to receive that punishment."

Ryoma pressed himself up against the front door, his mind still racing between staying or running out. Rinko took a few steps closer, trapping him at the door entrance, her cheeks aglow from ferocity. "You were sixty seconds late."

"Gomen…"

"So, for each second, you will suffer." Rinko smiled, showing her bare white teeth.

Ryoma's eyes widened, but before he could comprehend what Rinko had stated, his mother had already begun.

"_One_."

Ryoma yelped as her palm impacted with the same cheek she had already bruised the night before. The cut stung like it was on fire, and Ryoma's golden eyes flickered with fear. "Stop-"

"_Two."_

This time, she pushed him so hard his body slammed to the ground, pain soaring through his back as he hit the cold, hardwood floor. For a second, his breath whooshed out of him. He struggled into a sitting position.

"_Three_."

Ryoma silently screamed as her fist connected with his eye, leaving him blurry and disoriented. All he could feel was pain, pain, and more pain. His cheek felt startlingly hot, his back numb, and his eye throbbing from the punch.

His mother had punched him.

Ryoma tried to get up, eyeing the doorknob, his mind only focused on one thing:

_This hurts. Make it stop. Need to escape. _

"_Four._"

_Please, please, someone make this stop._

And all Ryoma could do was pray it would.


	8. To Discover A Boy

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **I actually died of _happiness _yesterday. I mean, I freaking got the MOST reviews I've ever gotten for one chapter specifically…I was beyond delirious! 21 reviews! I never expected such an outcome for my story…I just want to say _thank you, thank you, thank you. _I will try my very best to update frequently! **Although I dislike this chapter greatly…I'm sorry if it sucked! I just couldn't get it to flow right!**

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

"_Five._"

Ryoma let out a strangled cry as the vicious women in front of him punctured his stomach with her fist. He felt so trapped by the door, so close to freedom, but unable to get out because Rinko repeatedly hit him before he could do anything.

"_Six._"

Another punch to the stomach. His entire body trembled as pain shot through, a woozy, sick feeling overtaking him. His mind was blank; he couldn't think or act. His vision was starting to flitter and searing hot pain flooded everywhere. His cheek felt like it was on fire.

"_Seven._"

As Ryoma tried not to scream, his mind prayed endlessly for someone to help him from this – _this torture. _When he fell against the cold, hard floor, his mind strayed to someone he would never think he would have begged protection for.

_Captain…you can always solve everything by just walking in the room._

"Eight."

_Can you solve this? _

"Nine."

_Help me._

"Ten."

_Please, please help me._

* * *

Tezuka could not focus on his homework.

He sat at the dining table, the fancy chandelier supplying plenty of light, yet not a word had been printed on his maliciously empty sheet of paper. His pencil tapped irritably against the oak desk, his eyes worriedly darting to the window. It was dark now, the city a pale gray, the moon forming faintly in the sky.

He just couldn't think – not when Ryoma was still on his mind. The boy had looked so – _so _fragile back when they had been walking towards his house. Without a doubt, Ryoma normally presented a very strong, confident aura around him wherever he went.

Today, however, he had seemed so uncomfortable and weary.

Tezuka wondered what could have caused that. Another problem was the bruise on his cheek – he could tell, throughout the tennis practice, that Ryoma had been lying about the ball injury. There was no question that there was something further that the boy was hiding.

The stoic captain was determined to find out just exactly what it was.

_Ding dong._

The captain sighed as the doorbell sounded. He stood up, pushing his chair in and leaving his uncompleted homework on the table as he made his way to the front door. With his mind still heavy about Ryoma, he opened the door, not even flinching as it created a creaking sound.

"Tezuka?"

Tezuka looked up in surprise.

Fuji stood remarkably calmly on Tezuka's front porch, his eerie smile plastered on his face and his eyes, as usual, gently closed.

"Fuji." Tezuka greeted. "What brings you here?"

Fuji reply was quiet yet curt.

"Let's go on a walk, Tezuka."

* * *

After Rinko completed abusing her son an accurate sixty times, she stared at his worn body with a pleased smirk on her face. He was lying unconscious, several bruises across his body, blood trickling down his forehead. His entire figure looked weak and tired.

"Now that you've earned the first part of your punishment," the women lifted the boy roughly. "You will now endure the second."

With a twisted smile, she opened the front door and threw the beat up twelve-year old boy onto the front lawn, watching as he lay helplessly sprawled on the grass.

Then, without even a hint of mercy or worry about the consequences, Rinko slammed the door shut and eased her way to make dinner in the kitchen.

* * *

"Fuji, I'm not exactly sure why we're going on a walk."

"Mmm. I want to discuss something with you."

Tezuka knew whatever Fuji wanted to '_discuss' _had to be pretty important, considering the sadist had come all the way to his house at 6:30 in the evening when he could have easily waited until the following day's tennis practice.

"And what may that be?" Tezuka watched the city cars zoom past them on the streets, the faint buzzing of electricity lines ringing in his ears.

"It's about Echizen."

Tezuka tensed in surprise, yet relief followed after. It seemed he wasn't the only person worried about the young tennis rookie. Fuji's smile seemed strained and an aura of suspicion radiated around him.

"You don't believe the ball excuse either, right Tezuka?"

"Of course not."

Fuji walked crisply alongside the captain. "I wonder what caused the bruise then. It must have been something personal for Echizen to hide it, huh?"

Tezuka gave the angel-like boy a sidelong glance. "Fuji…you already have any idea of what happened, don't you?"

"Saa…" he shrugged. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. "Wanna find out?"

Tezuka looked at him. "You aren't suggesting we go to his house, are you?"

"Why not?" Fuji grinned. "We can get answers out of him there. He'll have no excuse not to answer."

As ridiculous as the idea sounded, Tezuka had to admit that the temptation to do it was strong. Stopping by at Ryoma's house would definitely make his concerns disappear, and then, maybe he would finally be able to get some English homework done.

"Very well, then."

Fuji's smile simply got wider. He knew the captain would agree.

A few blocks of silence later, Fuji and Tezuka finally reached what seemed to be a small home. There was a little garden splayed out front and wind chimes hanging on the porch. The grass was freshly cut and the style was old-fashioned.

As they approached the home, something became very clear.

Somebody was lying on the grass, seemingly unconscious.

Upon closer inspection, they realized exactly who was passed out on the front yard.

"Echizen." Fuji's eyes snapped open, icy blue pools staring intently at the boy who was blacked out on the ground. Surprise covered every feature in his normally composed exterior, and he could feel his hands trembling in stunned shock.

The boy looked pale and bruised, patches of blood disorientating his face. His injury on the cheek was darker and fresh, and the rest of his body seemed to have suffered a similar fate. The night air was cold on his open legs and arms, goose bumps covering his skin.

"Echizen."

Fuji's head jerked to Tezuka, who had worry and emotion etched across his entire face – something he rarely showed.

Both of them were thinking the same thing.

_Who could have done this to their precious freshman?_


	9. To Awaken In Home

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **I know, I know. I'm not keeping up with this updating thing. On the bright side, I actually liked writing this chapter! I hope you guys enjoy reading it too! And THANKS so much for all the reviews so far! xD I appreciate them.

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

Fuji's flashing pools of blue withered with shock as he stared at the pale boy lying on the ground. The air seemed to have whooshed out of his throat, leaving him with his lips parted in a circle formation. "Ryoma…" he bent down slightly, grimacing as he noted all the deep bruises and cuts on his body.

Tezuka crouched down next to the sadist, flickers of emotion passing through his normally stoic face. "Something bad definitely happened to him…" he took his hand and very gently brushed Ryoma's black-emerald hair out of his pasty face.

Fuji's eyes flamed. "Something…more like _someone._"

"You don't mean…" Tezuka frowned.

"I already suspected it." The tennis prodigy's voice was low and hushed. "…but I never really thought into it…"

The captain responded by deepening his frown. The prospect that somebody in Ryoma's family was beating the boy ruthlessly seemed so unbelievably ludicrous. He already knew that Ryoma's father Nanjiroh surpassed the tennis pro level and was trusted by Ryuzaki Sensei, so it would be odd for the man to abuse his son. Rinko, from the little pieces he'd seen her, seemed like a very nice young lady to.

Ryoma had never really talked particularly badly of either, despite his mutters about his _baka oyajii. _

It just didn't seem possible. Maybe it wasn't even someone in his family. It was probably some bully trying to harass him – yet Fuji looked set that this was child abuse.

And Fuji was rarely wrong.

"Tezuka…what should we do with him? Shall we take him back to your house or – or maybe knock and talk to his parents…?"

Tezuka cradled Ryoma's head in his hands, biting his lip, resisting a shudder as his dark coffee eyes scanned the broken body of their twelve-year old tennis star. Right now, he didn't want to have a long, intense talk with Ryoma's parents. He simply wanted to take the boy to his house and take care of him.

"I think we should take him to my house." Tezuka lifted Ryoma's neck slightly, before slipping the fragile boy into his arms. He curled Ryoma so that the golden-eyed boy was resting on his chest, supported heavily by Tezuka's strong form. "We can call his parents once we get him cleaned up a little."

Fuji's lips quirked upwards in a smirk, even though the situation they were in required nothing but seriousness. He couldn't help but notice that Tezuka was holding the boy rather protectively to his body, hands grasping tightly around him to make sure nobody harmed him further.

_Maybe rather too protective… _

The regular sniggered under his breath, before closing his eyes and smiling. It hurt him that somebody was abusing Ryoma so badly, but he knew, with the help of Tezuka, the boy would be fine. Just fine.

"Your house it is then, captain." Fuji stood up, brushing the dust off his sweatpants and smiling radiantly. "We better take care of our…_Ochibi._"

Tezuka stared at him firmly. "Let's not let our guard down. Echizen needs help."

Fuji resisted rolling his eyes.

Tezuka really needed to loosen up.

* * *

"He's badly hurt." Fuji glanced at the lifeless preteen snuggled in Tezuka's arms as they walked down the sidewalk. The white moonlight shone buttery like gold and the dark skies flooded with memories. Tezuka didn't look at Fuji, his concern for Ryoma rising like the sun.

"I know."

"It's someone from his family. Child abuse."

"How do you know?" Tezuka said after a moment of hesitance.

Fuji's brow furrowed and his smile wilted slightly. "If it was somebody else, like a bully, he woulda told us."

Tezuka decided not to reply, intent on getting Ryoma home. He couldn't help but stare at the boy in his arms; beat up, bruised and weak – yet there was still an innocent, adorable spark to him. The captain, who was normally very composed, felt his heart rate speed up.

"Ne, Tezuka…"

"Yes?"

"You seem to be holding him awfully close to you." Fuji's voice was deceiving.

Tezuka wondered how he managed to look restrained while his heart thumped louder, roaring in his ears. He tried to focus on the twinkling stars in the skies, refusing to make eye contact with the mischievous Fuji.

He was saved from answering by a tiny noise.

"Nngh." Ryoma murmured, body tensing.

Instantly, both Fuji and Tezuka stopped in the middle of the street, staring with wide eyes at the prince that was finally coming to. They watched as his pale face crumpled slightly, the muscles in his eyelids contracting as he adjusted to awakening.

"Nnn…" one eye opened, brilliant golden melting in with the moonlight. Then, slowly, the other. He blinked for a moment, confused at where he was, only aware of the intense soreness ripping throughout his entire body. He then realized that he was a few feet off the ground, resting in someone's arms.

His eyes locked with a pair of deep brown ones. "…Cap-captain?"

"Echizen." Tezuka stated calmly. Fuji peered over his shoulder, smiling widely at the young boy.

Ryoma's eyes were shifting in disbelief but he couldn't find the voice to respond. His body felt so weak and vulnerable, the slightest movements sending pain coursing through his body. His eyes felt heavy and his body wanted to sleep – sleep, _god_, that sounded nice right about now.

A bed.

_Oh, _he would love a bed. His body ached all over.

"Echizen…how are you feeling?" Tezuka observed him. He wanted to jump to questions but he contained himself, aware that Ryoma probably was emotionally and physically drained at the moment.

"I'm…I'm…" Ryoma's mind flitted to the events that had occurred to before he had passed out. Panic shuddered through him. Why were Tezuka and Fuji here? What had happened? Did they find out about his mother abusing him?

_Damn, damn, damn. _

He could feel his eyes stinging with tears and blinked furiously. He just wanted somewhere to go where he wasn't being examined and interpreted – like home. But he wasn't exactly sure where that was anymore.

Ryoma cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed that he was being held by his captain. However, he felt too tired to truly care. "Um…mada mada dane."

Fuji grinned slightly and eyed Tezuka. "Shall we tell him where we're taking him?"

"Echizen…we were considering taking you home…to check out your injuries…" Tezuka watched the boy awkwardly.

Ryoma's eyes widened slightly, but other than that, he hid his surprise well. "Okay." He said, merely unable to fight at the moment. His eyes drooped slightly and his hands curled around Tezuka's jacket, seeking the comfort of resting his head.

_Home…_

_Tezuka's arms could work._


	10. To Be Tenderly Caught

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **I'm so sorry! I haven't updated in like four days! Well…I've been…busy…brewing…a new story…an OT5 story…with long chapters…it's called "The Five Kingdoms…" So I've been busy with that…but I wanted to get back to this story! So here's a chapter!

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

Tezuka briefly thanked god that none of his parents were home.

He wasn't in the mood to explain responsibly and stoically to his parents on why he was carrying an injured twelve-year old boy into their house. The stress about finding out that Ryoma was being abused at home weighed heavily on his mind, and although his expression remained the same, his eyes flickered worriedly to the battered boy curled in his arms.

He was glad Fuji was here with him, too. The angelic teen, although sometimes intolerable, was a comforting presence.

"I guess we should clean up some of the blood, ne?" Fuji slipped off his shoes on the door mat, flicking on the lights.

"Yes, and then maybe try to tend some of the bruises." Tezuka nodded curtly.

Ryoma scowled at the two of them, his lower lip sticking out slightly as he glared viciously. Or, at least, attempted to glare viciously. It was more of a cute little pout with narrowed eyes. "Can you please stop talking like I'm not even here?"

Fuji smiled, laughing softly. "We're your senpai's, Ryoma. We can talk however we wish."

"Mada Mada Dane." He grumbled in reply, wanting a Ponta so he could chuck the contents of it on the sadist's face.

Tezuka's lips pursed and he shook his head at Fuji. "Let's not make him irritated, Fuji. He needs to rest. He's been both emotionally and physically straine-" he paused as the boy of concept tugged at his sleeve angrily.

"I'm not strained." He muttered as he caught the captain's attention.

Tezuka examined the boy, who was obviously in denial. The older boy could see the emotions flicking through Ryoma's eyes, both of sadness and confusion. And obviously, he was also physically exhausted from the injuries. However, he simply replied, "Alright Echizen."

Ryoma gripped Tezuka's sleeve tighter. "I'm not. I'm fine, actually. Can you take me back to my house?"

Fuji inwardly giggled at the boy's innocent, defiant responses.

Tezuka's voice was serious. "We need to clean you up and bandage some of the bruises. I can't send you home when you aren't even able to stand up properly by yourself."

"I can stand up." Ryoma said bluntly. He struggled to get out of Tezuka's hold, hoping to prove that he was completely capable of standing on his own.

Tezuka's grip simply tightened. "Look at your knee. There's blood everywhere, and who knows what else has been injured. Let's not do anything rash."

Ryoma squirmed some more, before sighing, letting his weak body rest against his captain once again. He felt embarrassed at the situation, and even more, his pride was hurt that he had to _struggle _to try to get out of Tezuka's arms. It was so frustrating. He was honestly fine.

_I mean, does it really matter that my head is pounding and that my stomach feels like it's been hammered and that blood is trickling down my forehead? _

_Or that my eye feels like it's been punctured with a nail and that my right leg is nearing numbness? _

_I'm perfectly fine…nothing I can't take care of myself. _

_So why do they have to be so persistent? _

He mustered his best glower towards his senpai's, before slumping his shoulders and frowning. "Ne…can we go on a couch or something? It's uncomfortable being carried around for so long."

That was a bit of a lie, because truthfully, Ryoma did feel quite comfy being supported by Tezuka. His body was warm and strong, creating a safe aura around the small boy. Still, he wanted to sit down so he could relax. It was quite unnerving to be held by his stoic, respectable captain.

"Of course."

Tezuka and Fuji wandered into the living room, statured with three big couches and painted portraits hanging on the walls. It was an illustrious five-walled space, edging towards perfection. Ryoma wasn't surprised that Tezuka's house was so neat and well kept.

"Captain?" Ryoma grunted in pain as Tezuka slid him gently onto the couch. His stomach was killing him – it felt like it had been winded and thrashed and split into pieces.

"Are you okay, Echizen?" Fuji piped up as he heard the twelve-year old groan a little.

"Yeah." Ryoma rolled to his side, trying to get comfortable. The couch was leather and cold and suddenly he wished he hadn't suggested resting here. He'd rather be held.

The two third-years watched as their freshman's face contorted whenever he moved even the slightest. Tezuka bit his lip.

_He looks like he's in so much pain. I wish I could help him. _

Setting his eyes determinedly, he crouched down and wiped a bit of blood from under Ryoma's hair. "Don't worry, we'll get you better."

Ryoma managed a weak smirk. "I don't think I'm the one worried here."

Tezuka didn't meet his eyes and Fuji's smile brightened.

_Ryoma would be Ryoma, abused or not._

* * *

"Eh, Rinko…where's the brat? Still wanderin' around?" Nanjiroh strolled into the Echizen residence, satisfied from a long day of playing tennis against a wall, reading his precious magazines, and ringing the bell. His eyes flitted to the window where darkness had nearly enveloped the world. "It's getting kinda dark. Wouldn't want the kid to get kidnapped or something."

Rinko had his back to him as she washed the dishes, shoulders hunched. "I don't know." Her reply was stiff. "He didn't come home after practice."

Nanjiroh frowned. It wasn't _too _unlikely that his son was still out, but it was nearing night and he expected Ryoma to be home by now.

"Aren't you worried?" he asked, before laughing so she wouldn't think _he _was worried. He watched as Rinko turned around, her eyes sweet and soft. "Of course, I was a little, but he is your kid so I'm not really surprised he's out so late." It took all her strength to stop her heart from roaring in her ears as relief washed over her body. Nanjiroh had come home through the front yard, and he obviously hadn't seen Ryoma, which meant the boy had run off somewhere. Good. The last thing she needed was getting accused of abusing her son.

She wasn't abusing him, after all. Simply punishing.

_Yes, punishing him like he deserved._

Nanjiroh furrowed his brow, surprised at how easy Rinko was taking this. Usually she would be on fire, calling the police, fretting for her poor baby. On the other hand, from yesterday's conversation at dinner, he was surprised she wasn't a_ngry _that Ryoma wasn't home yet. She had made such a big deal about a curfew the night before, and today, she honestly didn't seem to care.

"That kid…" he grumbled, stopping in his tracks and turning around towards the door. He might as well go look for him, just to make sure. Despite the way he acted, Ryoma was truly his life, pride, and joy, and while he knew the boy could look after himself, he still worried for him.

"Where are you going?" Rinko said as she watched him turn around.

"Eh, gunna look around for him."

Rinko pressed her lips in a thin line. "I'm sure he's fine. Why don't you stay home…and we can…" she batted her eyelashes. "…cuddle."

Nanjiroh's eyes lit up. "AHH! OF COURSE RINKO! Cuddling, cuddling…yahoo!"

Rinko sighed in relief.

"We can cu-u-uddle…" he added in a sing-song voice. "right after I go look for Ryoma."

Rinko's stomach dropped. Her body tensed as Nanjiro headed to the front entrance, humming loudly, determined to find his son.

_Well, I shouldn't be worried…_she thought bitterly. _He can't possibly find him…and even if he does, I'll just pretend some bullies outside beat him up…_

Satisfied, Rinko turned back to the kitchen, turning off the water as she set up all the culinary into the cabinets.

But just as she was about to put another plate into the shelf, Nanjiroh said something from the entrance that made her blood run cold.

"Rinko…" his voice was steely. "_Why is Ryoma's cap on the ground? And how come there's __blood __on the cap?" _

And Rinko was so shocked that the plate in her hand dropped to the floor, shattering into a million tiny pieces.


	11. To Wear Tezuka's Pyjamas

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for taking so long to update! Anyway, I truly enjoyed writing this chapter! Hopefully y'all like it too! THANKS FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS BTW! You guys are wonderful people, honestly.

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

Nanjiroh heard the sound of the plate colliding onto the tile floor. He heard it shatter into a million pieces. Every sense in his body was telling him to run into the kitchen and ask Rinko what was wrong – _worry _about her.

But he was still; frozen. Ryoma's Fila cap was grasped between his fingers, a trickle of dry blood across the side of it. His eyes flitted to the couch where he realized his son's _tennis bag _was.

_So Ryoma came home…how come Rinko…did she not realize? How could she have not realized? _

"Rinko." Nanjiroh yelled again, his voice loud and clear, betraying the emotions he felt. "_Come here!_"

There was a deafening silence before the soft pads of Rinko's feet slid into view, her figure appearing past the kitchen entrance. Her dark coffee eyes were shaking with fear, yet another emotion was present as well: anger, maybe? Hatred?

Nanjiroh felt his stomach sink. He had suspected that maybe Rinko had been in her own world and hadn't realized Ryoma had come home and then left, but the guilt on her face washed out that option.

"What's going on? Did…Ryoma come home?"

Rinko frowned at the name of her son. "Well…no. I mean, he must have now that I see his tennis bag and cap…but I was upstairs in the shower during the time he normally comes back…so I guess I didn't notice."

Her voice was silky and innocent and Nanjiroh's suspicion faded slightly. "You mean to tell me you had no idea he came home?"

"Nope." Rinko shrugged innocently, looking anywhere but her husband's eyes.

Nanjiroh's lips tightened but he wasn't sure what to reply. Even if Rinko _was _lying, it didn't explain why there was blood on Ryoma's hat, or why he wasn't home at the moment.

_Rinko would never hurt Ryoma…so what's going on? Where is my kid?_

"I think…I'm going to call around." Nanjiroh grabbed the phone from the kitchen table, a deep, infuriating worry settling in his stomach. He had a bad feeling about this whole situation, yet he couldn't put his finger on exactly what was wrong. "Eh…who's that guy that always picks Ryoma up in the morning?"

Rinko smiled softly, relief washing over her. Even if Nanjiroh still didn't seem fully convinced that she had no idea what was going on, he didn't look mad anymore. A smirk slipped onto her lips.

_Perfect. That brat won't win. _

"Rinko?"

Rinko snapped out of her reverie. "Oh, um, Momoshiro."

And Nanjiroh began to dial.

* * *

"_Oww, _that stings." Ryoma complained as Tezuka attempted to clean the bruise on the side of his head. Fuji had suggested they use this spray that supposedly clears all cuts, not bothering to mention that it hurt like a million hells.

His eyebrow twitched as searing heat burned the side of his forehead. From under Tezuka's arms, he glared at Fuji who was chuckling proudly at his accomplishment.

"Just a little more." Tezuka said as he gently dabbed a cotton ball against the remaining blood. He watched as the small boy winced, bit his lip, glared viciously, before wincing again.

_Poor kid._

It wasn't like Tezuka to feel so sympathetic for Ryoma – as the preteen was usually so strong and gave off an adult-like aura. Today though, sitting there with his eyes big and wide, he looked like a tiny little kid.

An _extremely cute _tiny little kid.

"Echizen, be a strong little boy, ne?" Fuji teased. He watched as Ryoma lifted his eyes and glowered so murderously that Fuji had to resist opening his eyes to scare him off. Honestly, that kid had a frightening look when he wanted to.

"I'm not little, Fuji-_senpai._"

"Of course you are. Only 12-years old, so short, an Ochibi, a tiny little spec in this gigantic world-"

"_Senpai!"_

Fuji grinned.

Tezuka shook his head, sighing inwardly, before moving a strand of Ryoma's emerald-black hair from his face. "Are you tired?" he asked in a gentle voice. Ryoma denied it vehemently, but the older boy could see his eyes drooping.

"It seems you are. It's been a long day. How about you sleep in the guest room?"

"I'm not tired." Ryoma mumbled, stifling a yawn. "I wanna go home."

Even as he said this, he wondered if he really believed his own words.

Did he _really _wanna go home?

_Why do I wanna go home anyways? Okaa-san'll probably beat me some more… _

_But what about oyajii? And Nanako? Surely they must be a little concerned…_

_Oh, who am I kidding… Okaa-san's probably convinced them all to hate me too and now if I go back, they'll all attack me and kill me._

"Echizen…are you alright?" Tezuka asked hesitantly. Ryoma had gotten a vacant look in his eyes and a small frown on his lips. He shook his shoulder a bit.

Ryoma blinked. "Oh…I'm fine."

"Then go to sleep. I'll show you the guest room." Tezuka stood up, clearing his throat and waiting for Ryoma to follow.

But the boy just sat there, lower lip quivering, almost as if he wasn't paying attention to his captain. The whole weight of the events suddenly seemed to hit him – that he was being abused. That his own _mother _was abusing him. What was he supposed to do now?

His body trembled slightly.

Fuji shared a glance with Tezuka. "Echizen…c'mon."

The 12-year old blinked rapidly, his eyes stinging with the oncoming of tears. He abruptly stood up, the blanket slipping off the couch. "Fine." His voice wobbled. "Where's the guestroom?"

Tezuka led Ryoma into the guest room, a hand on the boy's shoulder the entire time.

_Please be okay, Ryoma._

The room was small and slightly dusty but in good condition. The sheets were made and the window was open, letting a light breeze sweep around the room.

While Ryoma took a shower, Tezuka stood right outside the door waiting patiently. He was finding it hard to leave the boy's side even for a second.

"You look worried." Fuji walked in. "He's taking a shower?"

"Yes." Tezuka paused. "…and of course I'm worried. Are you not, Fuji?"

Fuji's eyes flashed bright, icy blue, gazing at the captain. "I'm more determined to finding out who did this to him. His mother, his father…his cousin, perhaps?"

"Should we ask him when he comes out?"

Fuji tensed. "Not today. He's exhausted emotionally, like you said. Maybe in the morning…"

"Good idea." Tezuka nodded approvingly.

"Uh…captain…" A delicate voice interrupted their conversation. Slowly, the bathroom door creaked open and Ryoma walked out, a blush blanketed over his cheeks. Fuji restrained bursting into hysterics while Tezuka allowed a small smile to grace his features.

Ryoma was standing in Tezuka's pyjamas. The striped, light blue and white night clothes dragged way past his arms, the shirt so long it nearly went to Ryoma's knees. The pants drooped onto the floor, and the boy kept pulling them up because they were too large for his waist. "Um…" his eyes shyly darted to the floor.

Tezuka realized that this was the first time he had seen the boy actually look so timid and embarrassed. It was quite adorable, actually.

"Mmm…" Fuji smiled. "You look cute Echizen."

Echizen pouted. "I'm _not _cute, geez."

Fuji's smile widened. "In those pyjamas you are, ne Tezuka?"

Tezuka looked away. "It's fine Echizen. If they're too big, you can just wear your other clothes."

Fuji seemed amused. "But he does look cute, _right _Tezuka?"

The captain silently glared at the sadist, before clearing his throat. He watched as Ryoma blinked up at him with big eyes. "I like these though. They're comfy, even if they don't fit."

Fuji once again constrained himself from cackling maniacally as Tezuka's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Oh, well, then you…can wear them." Tezuka sounded uncomfortable.

_If only he would blush…it would make my day, _Fuji thought.

As Ryoma was about to reply, the phone suddenly rang, beeping wildly from the sidetable. Tezuka swiftly walked over, still thinking about how cute Ryoma looked in his pyjamas. He picked up the phone without bothering to look at the screen and pressed talk. He held it against his ear. "Hello?" he asked absentmindedly.

The response startled him.

"_This is Ryoma's father."_


	12. To Cry

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Once again, I know I'm no longer…frequently updating. I apologize for that! It's just, school is so busy and life is so crazy, and well, there just doesn't seem to be any time to sit down and just _write. _I do still write every day, but only snippets here and there…**AND SUPER SHORT! I KNOW!**

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

"Echizen's dad?" Tezuka snapped out of his daze. He straightened his shoulders and grasped the phone tighter.

The response on the other end sounded weary and tired. "You're one of his teammates, right? Echizen's not home and it's getting late…did he mention where he was to you by any chance?"

Tezuka glanced at Fuji and Ryoma who were standing and watching him. "Actually," the captain of Seigaku cleared his throat. "He's at my house."

There was an awkward pause.

Nanjiroh coughed. "He's at _your _house? Why the hell would my son be at your house at nearly 8:00 at night?"

Tezuka grimaced at the loud tone Ryoma's father was carrying. _Could it be that Nanjiroh was the one abusing Ryoma? _Shaking his head, he decided he shouldn't be so quick to judge. "Well, there's actually a bit of a problem."

Nanjiroh's breathing was heard on the other end. "What kind of problem?"

Tezuka toyed with the cord of the phone, wondering if he should start accusing Ryoma's dad that someone in their family was abusing the 12-year old. He decided against it. "It's pretty serious." He finally said. "I suggest you come to my house, or we'll come over to your house."

"Che! Are ya sure you're my son's teammate?" Nanjiroh asked suspiciously. "You sound like an adult."

Tezuka almost smiled, but refrained. He ignored Nanjiroh's comment. "Echizen's at my house, and he's…_tired._ So then, perhaps you could come here?"

Nanjiroh grunted, "My son 'ain't any wimp. How tired could he be?"

"It'll make more sense when you come." Tezuka said firmly.

"Whatever." Nanjiroh hung up.

Tezuka stared at the phone for a long moment, before placing it on the sidetable. He sighed softly, turning around and facing two expectant guests.

"So…who was it?" Fuji asked, although Tezuka was pretty sure the tensai knew _exactly _who it was. Ryoma blinked curiously from beside him.

"It was Echizen's dad."

Fuji nodded knowingly. Ryoma's eyes merely widened slightly, but he made an effort to hide his surprise. "Oyajii?" he mumbled under his breath.

Tezuka's gaze softened as he watched Ryoma's confused, innocent face. Sported in oversized pajamas with his head hat-less, he was getting cuter and cuter by the passing second. The captain closed his eyes briefly, trying to get his heart to stop pounding. This was _Ryoma. _One of their teammates. A _boy. _Who was _twelve. _

"And…" Tezuka sounded tired. "He's coming to my house so we can explain things to him."

Fuji bit his lip. "Demo, what if it's Echizen's father that's ab-"

Tezuka cut Fuji off with a stern look, gesturing with his eyes that Ryoma was there and they shouldn't go pointing fingers when it could very well just be a bully or gang.

"He's _coming here_?" Ryoma swallowed hard. "And…what do you mean explain things to him? There's nothing to explain, okay?"

"Echize-" Fuji said gently.

"There's _nothing _to explain." Ryoma repeated, staring directly at Tezuka. "I just…fell."

If the situation wasn't so confronting and dangerous, Tezuka would have actually cracked a smile. Could Ryoma be that naïve to believe that an excuse of him 'falling' could cover all the bruises and injuries he'd earned?

"Oh, Echizen…does your father know where Tezuka lives?" Fuji piped up.

Ryoma rubbed one of his eyes. "Yeah, he has all of your phone numbers and addresses in a list or something. I think Okaa-san made him write them down or something." His eyes drooped. "But I told you, what's the point? I fell, okay?"

"Echizen…" Tezuka said, his dark eyes glinting with concern.

Ryoma shivered, his eyes drooping.

"Just leave me alone." He muttered, his feet padding over to the guest bed. "I can handle myself."

Tezuka and Fuji both watched sadly as Ryoma climbed into the bed, looking so small and weary, before slipping the blanket up to his chin. His body curled delightedly from the warmth and he waited for his thoughts to go fuzzy. He'd always been quick to fall asleep – and now, he was truly grateful for that.

He just wanted everything to go away. People needed to stop worrying about him. He was _okay. _

Perfectly fine.

Ryoma laid in the bed, waiting patiently to fall asleep. He was tired – _extremely _tired, actually. He was expecting to fall asleep in a few minutes. But as the seconds dragged by, he felt himself getting more and more sleepy yet his mind refused to let him rest.

Maybe it was because Tezuka and Fuji were staring at him like hawks.

_Why him? _

He rolled over, wondering what the hell he was doing sleeping at Tezuka's house in the captain's pajamas. He should have been at home, curled in bed with Karupin at his feet. Rinko should have been watching her favourite soap opera and his father should have been eating junk food from the fridge for a 'late night snack'.

_Why can't everything just be normal? Maybe if I just go back and pretend nothing happened…and Okaa-san will stop hurting me because she realized what she did… _

He trembled slightly.

Who was he kidding? Everything was going to be chaos as soon as his father found out what happened. What if his mother got accused of child abuse and went to jail? He didn't want his mother to go to jail, no matter how much she had hurt him.

He took a small breath. _Why couldn't he fall asleep? _

He heard Tezuka's footsteps as they approached the side of the bed, but he felt too far away to care.

_Why me…? _

_Why does everything have to happen to me? _

_Can't they just leave me alone? _

Ryoma could feel Tezuka staring at him over the bed with worry.

_Damn it. Damn it, just go away. _

_I'm fine. _

_I'm okay. _

_I don't need anyone…_

_I'm…_

_Maybe…_

"Echizen…-" Tezuka said. His voice had never sounded so gentle and soft before.

_Maybe I'm not okay._

And Ryoma started to cry.


	13. To Console Before Chaos

** Crumbling**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Aha, I have three stories going on at a time now! xD Well, don't worry, I'm going to finish this story no matter what happens. (Unless I die or something). Anyway, here's another chapter! Hope you enjoyed! Oh, and thanks so much for everyone who's following, favourited, or reviewed on this story! I appreciate it!

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

Tezuka had never been so shocked before. His lips parted open and his dark, steady eyes widened considerably. Ryoma was _crying._ The fact didn't settle well with his brain.

The boy had his face buried in his pillow to try to hide himself. Without the slight tremor of his shoulders and occasional noises, you wouldn't have been able to tell he was crying. He didn't sob or wail like some people – his tears were silent and muffled, like he just wanted everyone to leave him alone.

_Well, I'm sure not going to leave him alone __now_.

"Echizen…" Tezuka didn't know what words to say to him, so instead, he wrapped his strong arms around Ryoma's shaking figure and lifted him up into a sitting position, pulling his body close to his chest. The boy's fingers clutched the fabric of Tezuka's shirt tightly.

With every shudder that emitted from Ryoma's body, Tezuka tightened his grip. He gently rubbed small circles on his back and stroked the boy's emerald-black hair. "You're okay." He whispered into his hair. "You'll be just fine."

Fuji observed the scene from the doorway, before smiling.

_I'll just leave them alone… _he thought with a smirk, before closing the door behind him.

Ryoma cried for a long time, glad to be able to let everything out. Tezuka was so comforting, murmuring soft nothings in his ear and rubbing his back to make him feel better.

"Captain…I…" Ryoma shivered, blinking back more tears. He lay against Tezuka's chest for a long moment, content to just be held. "I don't know what to do."

Tezuka moved back slightly so he could see Ryoma's face. With a sweet tone, unlike his normal one, he replied, "It's okay to feel weak sometimes, you know." He moved a piece of Ryoma's hair out of the distressed boy's face. "And it's also okay to depend on someone else. To ask someone else for help."

Ryoma bit his lip, embarrassed. "I know."

Tezuka showed a rare smile. "And it's okay to cry, too."

"Whatever." Ryoma muttered, looking away.

Tezuka felt lighter. He felt like he could just keep smiling and smiling and smiling because Ryoma was just _that _adorable. He was surprised that he'd never noticed before. However, he didn't want to act too happy so he resisted another smile and simply held the boy.

"Um…you know…" Ryoma glanced up, wiping his eyes clear and frowning. "You didn't have to call my dad here."

Tezuka sighed. Not this again. "Of course I did." He said firmly. He brushed his fingers along the bruise on the side of Ryoma's forehead. "I won't let whoever hurt you just get away with it."

Ryoma stiffened. "What- what would you do…then? If you found out who it was?"

Tezuka pressed his lips into a tight line. "I'd report child abuse, of course. Or violence and harassment." He cupped his hands around Ryoma's head, cradling it. "We'll make sure nobody hurts you like this again."

Ryoma glared at him. "I'm not a baby."

Tezuka adjusted his glasses. "Twelve years old is really young, considering you could live up to a hundred years if you're lucky."

"So is fourteen." Ryoma retorted.

Tezuka paused. "But people consider me an adult so-"

Ryoma yawned, interrupting the older boy. Tezuka smiled. "Wanna go to sleep now?"

"Yeah…" Ryoma stopped. He frowned again. "Stop talking to me like I'm a baby."

Tezuka chuckled. "Oh, so you're ordering the captain around now?"

Ryoma's eyes widened and he stared at Tezuka with his mouth hanging open.

"Echizen…" Tezuka asked, concerned.

"You just made a joke, didn't you?" Ryoma looked like he wished he had a voice-recorder. "I can't believe you just made a joke. You never- you never joke around."

"Echize-" Tezuka laughed.

"_And _I'm pretty sure you just laughed." Ryoma blinked in disbelief.

Tezuka stared at the dumbfounded boy, realizing that he was correct. He usually remained his composure so well that no one was able to break through and make him act like that – he'd only shown a full smile in rare circumstances, and _laughing_? He never did that.

Tezuka bit his lip. "Are you okay now?"

Ryoma frowned. "Yeah. It's just…do you have to tell my father about what happened?"

Tezuka traced an arm around Ryoma's shoulder, pulling him closer towards him. The preteen shyly scooted over in acceptance. "Why?" The captain's breath felt sweet against his ear. "Why don't you want him to know?"

Ryoma fidgeted uncomfortably, before putting on his 'bored' expression. "Che, it's just pointless. All that'll happen is drama."

Tezuka squeezed him tighter. "I don't think it's pointless, Echizen. Your health is at stake."

"But…"

_What if Okaa-san gets in trouble? _

_I know I shouldn't care…_

_But she's still my mom…_

"But what?" Tezuka said so quietly Ryoma wasn't even sure if the captain had spoken. Ryoma looked down at the ground.

"It's just that-"

The door flung open and Fuji popped his head inside. Tezuka nearly let out a frustrated sigh, angry that he had been so close to figuring out what Ryoma was worried about when Fuji had to come in and ruin everything. Still, he plastered a serious gaze towards the tensai. "What is it, Fuji?"

"The door." Fuji said. "He's here."

* * *

Nanjiroh tapped his foot impatiently, pacing around the entrance of Tezuka's house. A closed-eyed smiling freak had opened the door and let him in, but then he'd gone upstairs to get Ryoma and Tezuka. The former tennis pro was sick with worry – it wasn't like him, but Tezuka had said the situation was very series when they'd been talking over the phone.

"Che, hurry up…" he muttered to himself.

He heard a shuffle of footsteps from the stairwell. Immediately, he looked up.

First, there was a boy, tall and bold, with a captivating presence.

Nanjiroh's heart dropped.

Beside him, almost hiding behind Tezuka, was another boy – a boy who looked so small and fragile that it took a moment for Nanjiroh to realize it was _his _boy.

His little boy.

Covered in bandages and bruises.

_What the hell happened?_

* * *

_**Thanks for reading! :D**  
_


	14. To Refuse To Speak

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Frequently updated. Haha…sorry about that. xD I'll try harder to update sooner but I have so many other story ideas splurging all the time that I can't seem to focus on one! But as I said before, no matter what, I'm completing this story. So no worries. :D

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

"Ryoma?" Nanjiroh's fingers clenched and unclenched at his side.

Shifting, Ryoma stepped slightly closer to Tezuka, his eyes wide and panicky. He already knew about the problem that was going to break out soon, but nothing could prepare him for it. His hands trembled and he put them behind his back, rocking on the heels of his feet. _I wish I could disappear._

"Kid…what…what _happened_?" Nanjiroh lacked words to say, which was unusual for him. He couldn't even try to act like he wasn't concerned, because as his eyes wandered towards the dark bruise on the side of Ryoma's face, his worry rocketed in spurts.

Ryoma shrugged slowly. "Nothing, really."

Fuji folded his hands behind his head. Tezuka glanced at the boy. "Echizen, don't be stubborn. You have to tell your father what's happening if you won't tell us."

"Of course." Fuji said smoothly. "We'll all sit around the kitchen table and have a nice conference."

Ryoma glared viciously at him, before creasing his brow and staring at the tile floor. He never thought he could be so boiling mad at someone as he was right now. How could Fuji-senpai trap him like that? At a table, with questions shooting at him, questions he didn't want to answer….

"You can't…" Ryoma cleared his throat. Something inside of him snapped. He was _Ryoma Echizen, _tennis prodigy, and master of the twist serve. He didn't listen to nobody, and he did what he wanted. He had to stop acting like a little child, agreeing to everything they were saying. He wasn't a wimp, he wasn't a little kid, and he _definitely _wasn't going to spill everything just because they ordered him to.

"You can't." he said, more firmly this time. He smirked. "You can't make me talk."

Nanjiroh narrowed his eyes. "Oh, boy, you'll talk alright. I wanna know everything. You can't just go around getting yourself hurt like this and then refuse to talk!"

Fuji nodded, pulling out a chair and sliding onto it. "And we can sit here all day if you want."

Tezuka grabbed an empty chair as well. "You'll have to speak eventually."

Ryoma frowned. Geez, they were all ganging up on him. He was tired though, and his muscles ached, so he relented to sitting down. He crossed his arms petulantly. _Sitting down. _That was all they were getting out of him.

"So," Fuji said after a moment. "Want to start talking?"

Ryoma didn't answer.

Fuji pressed his lips in a thin line. He wanted to get to the bottom of this, and Ryoma was being stubborn. Fuji's usual smile was utterly strained at this point. "Fine," he said. "I didn't want to do this, but if you aren't going to explain, I guess we're just going to have to give our assumptions on what happened."

Ryoma's eyes widened and he bit his lip. What were their a_ssumptions? _They couldn't possibly know-

"We believe that someone in Echizen's family is-"

"Stop." Ryoma shivered, his eyes begging Fuji not to go on. His voice cracked, and he smoothed it out. "Don't say anything."

Nanjiroh stared at Fuji. "What were you going to say?" he demanded.

Fuji's eyes swivelled to Ryoma. The boy almost shuddered. He had never seen the tensai's eyes look so merciless. "I was going to say that-"

"Stop."

This time, it wasn't Ryoma's voice. It was Tezuka's. The captain of the team adjusted his glasses, before staring into Fuji's piercing gaze with clear, fearless eyes. "It isn't your place to say this. When Echizen wants to tell us, he will."

Fuji blinked. "Tezuka, if we wait, he'll never tell us."

Tezuka knew that maybe Fuji was right. It was true, if they waited, they could be here all night and Ryoma wouldn't even say a word. He was stubborn like that. But seeing Ryoma look so helpless, so desperate to stop Fuji from speaking had overtaken his senses. He didn't want to see the boy in such a tight situation.

"It's his decision. We'll wait, and he will speak eventually." Tezuka said.

Fuji titled his head slightly, studying the captain. "Alright," he said after a moment. "if you say so."

Nanjiroh scoffed. "Che, this isn't only about you two. This is about my _son. _I kinda wanna know what's going on with him."

"Then Ryoma will speak when he is ready." Tezuka said in his 'and that's the final decision' voice. He slipped his hand under the table and felt for Ryoma's fingers, squeezing the boy's hand gently. Ryoma looked up in surprise, but his heart felt warmed by the gesture. Maybe someone was on his side after all.

"Thank you." He whispered softly, so quietly that only Tezuka could hear. He leaned his head sleepily against the chair, resisting a yawn. "Can I go to sleep now?"

Fuji's eyes flashed.

Nanjiroh's mouth dropped open as he began to protest. "No way kid! You can't sleep right now!"

Ryoma smirked. "I'm not going to say anything so you might as well let me sleep."

Fuji nearly smacked his forehead. Tezuka had given Ryoma more confidence in his determination to not say anything, and now it was probably going to take a year until Ryoma confided in them.

"I think…we should let him sleep." Tezuka said hesitantly. "After all, he's tired, and maybe in the morning he'll be more willing to open up…"

Again, Fuji's eyes shot to Tezuka in surprise. Something was definitely up with their captain. Tezuka never liked leaving unfinished business until the next day, unless…an amused smirk danced onto the sadist's face. _He really does care about Ryoma, doesn't he? _

And as he watched Ryoma and Tezuka share a soft, special smile with each other, his suspicions were confirmed.


	15. To Brace Yourself

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **So, this story is nearing an end…well, not really. I have a vague idea where it's heading, but when I say nearing the end, I mean like, maybe six or seven more chapters? Or more. Watch me go to like, fifty LOL. xD Well, let's just see!

**Warnings: **The chapters will be short but will be updated frequently. I'm not very well with Japanese as Prince of Tennis is one of the few anime's I've watched, so forgive me for misspelling stuff or saying the wrong words. I suck at writing Echizen's dad, so apologies for that.

* * *

"So, if Echizen's just going to go to sleep…" Fuji frowned, crossing his arms.

"Then I guess we'll be heading back to our house then." Nanjiroh finished for him, wrapping a protective arm around his son's battered body. Ryoma tiredly leaned into the crook of his father's elbow, his fingers gripping his arm. He wasn't really paying attention to what they were saying – now that he knew he wasn't going to have to speak, or at least for today anyway, he was ready to fall asleep.

"Going back to your house?" Tezuka asked, alarm evident in his eyes.

Nanjiroh nodded. "Che, what a waste of time. I come all the way here and y'all tell me nothing. Well, it only makes sense for me to take Ryoma back home, make sure he's safe and sound in bed so nobody goes hurting him like this again."

Fuji and Tezuka exchanged glances. If Fuji's suspicions were right, then going home was the worst thing to do at the moment.

Yet they couldn't really defy Nanjiroh. Tezuka nodded curtly. "That sounds fine…but, we'll talk about this again tomorrow when he's freshened up."

"Yeah," Fuji said carefully. "Would you mind bringing Echizen and yourself to Tezuka's house again tomorrow? After school?"

Nanjiroh sighed. "Whatever."

"Oyaji," Ryoma tugged on his father's sleeve. He yawned. "Let's go."

"Yeah, yeah." Nanjiroh pulled his son along to the door, nodding his thanks to Tezuka and Fuji before they disappeared out the door. As soon as they were gone, Fuji's eyes flashed bright blue to Tezuka, narrowing disapprovingly.

"I can't believe we're sending him back without knowing who's hurting him. What if it's his dad?" Fuji said.

"It couldn't be his dad." Tezuka said. "Echizen didn't seem to be the least bit fearful of him. He seemed very comfortable around his father."

"Yeah, but-"

"And his father genuinely didn't seem to know what was going on." Tezuka added.

Fuji bit his lip. In a sense, Tezuka was right. It really did seem that Nanjiroh was innocent about the whole thing. Yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that either way, it wasn't a good idea to send Ryoma home. After all, Fuji himself was a champ at acting innocent, so who knew who was faking and who wasn't?

"I guess." The tensai finally sighed, before spreading his usual smile over his face. "I suppose I'll be off too now."

"I'll see you at morning practice." Tezuka said with a little nod, his mind still on Ryoma.

* * *

"Honestly, if you were this sleepy, you shoulda said so." Nanjiroh muttered as he dragged his son by the waist the best he could. Ryoma's head lolled and his eyes fluttered tiredly as he let his father practically heave him home. His legs trudged across the ground but he was already half-asleep.

"How far 'till home?" Ryoma mumbled, resting his entire weight on his father. Nanjiroh grumbled something incoherent before pushing his son forward, encouraging him to keep walking.

Ryoma sluggishly nodded, trying to keep himself awake. Nanjiroh smiled, but it weakened as his eyes travelled over his boy's bruises and marks. Even though they were less noticeable after his two friends had taken care of him, it was still clear that someone had abused him – and _badly. _A sad smile graced his features and he tightened his arm around Ryoma, combing a hand through his silky hair. _I don't know who did this, but they won't do it again. _With this mindset, he headed home. _I won't let anyone hurt you again._

When they arrived to their house, Ryoma was actually fully asleep. Nanjiroh scooped the kid into his arms before knocking gently on the door. He wondered how Rinko would react when she found out – she'd be raging, probably. She always fretted over Ryoma, and even though she seemed a little harsh towards him lately, seeing him bruised would send her in a fit.

"Rinko, I found him." Those were the first words Nanjiroh said as he entered the house. He walked into the living room, still carrying Ryoma. His eyes widened slightly. Rinko was sitting on the couch with the lights off, silently. A candle illuminated her face, making it glow eerily.

She looked up, her gaze soft. "Oh. Hello Ryoma."

"Uh, he's asleep." Nanjiroh scratched the back of his head. He squinted, "What's – are you alright Rinko?"

Rinko's fingers bunched tightly around her lap and she strained a smile. "I'm fine. How's Ryoma?"

"He's…" Nanjiroh's expression turned serious. "Someone hurt him."

He waited for Rinko to go ballistic, pulling out her hair as she scrambled over to Ryoma and started crying. But none of that happened. She simply sat there, her forehead tensing, her body swaying slightly. "Oh, my poor Ryoma." She said, but the words sounded forced.

Nanjiroh's frown deepened. "I don't mean like a small injury. He's bruised all over."

He waited for her to reply, but she didn't say anything. They stood in silence for a long moment, the gentle sound of Ryoma's steady breathing filling the room. Nanjiroh looked down at his son and smiled lovingly, stroking his cheek with his hand.

When Nanjiroh looked up again, Rinko's calm gaze had disappeared. Her eyes were murderous, sharp and filled with hate and envy.

And the worst part was – he swallowed, tightening his grip around his son – those hatred-filled eyes were staring directly at Ryoma, not him.


	16. To Waver With Suspicion

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **I'm going to try to update this story weekly now, so every Saturday!

**Warnings:** Short chapters, weekly updates, now moving at a slow-pace, and some OOC on Nanjiroh and Rinko.

* * *

In a moment of conflict, Nanjiroh wondered if Rinko had abused his son. His arms tightened around the sleeping boy, pressing him tighter to his chest. His wife was still staring at him – or, well, Ryoma - with hollow, cruel eyes like she couldn't have laid her eyes upon something worse. "Rinko?" he said cautiously.

Rinko's eyes flickered up to her husband and her dark coffee eyes became somber. "Who did this?" she asked softly.

Nanjiroh's mouth felt like sawdust. He didn't want to say that he was starting to suspect it was _she _who had done the crime. Swallowing, he noticed Rinko didn't look as psychotically evil anymore and had returned to smiling weakly and looking worried. "Actually, that's the question. I don't know who did this to him."

Rinko looked at him hard, before sighing and standing up. "Well, my _poor_ little boy must be exhausted. We should set him in bed, no?"

Nanjiroh nodded carefully. "Yeah – yeah, we should."

Rinko held her hands out, smiling sickeningly sweetly. "Here, I'll bring him to his bed."

Nanjiroh narrowed his eyes. He didn't know what it was, but something about his wife was off. Maybe it was the creepy voice she was using or the displeased smile sent several times towards his son. Nevertheless, he already had better plans. "Actually," he said. "I was wondering – I'm gunna get Ryoma to sleep with me tonight in our king-sized bed."

Rinko frowned, creases forming around her eyes. "But then where would _I_ sleep tonight?" she nearly spat.

Nanjiroh grinned. "Che, where else? Either Ryoma's bed or the couch."

Rinko looked furious. "The _couch_? Did you just suggest the _couch_? What am I to you? A piece of meat compared to your beautiful, wonderful son?"

Nanjiroh's smile disappeared. His voice sounded strangely thick. "How does this have anything to do with Ryoma? He is a wonderful son, as it is. I hope you _agree_ with that, being his mother."

Rinko paused, flustered. She quickly nodded several times. "_Of course_ he is a wonderful son." She crooned. "Beautiful, lovely! Nevermind what I said!"

I'll try not to." Nanjiroh grumbled.

Humming, even though it wasn't exactly the occasion to, he headed up the stairwell and into their bedroom. The walls were dark and little bits of moonlight spilled in through the window, illuminating shadows among the furniture. Nanjiroh flicked the light switch and generous golden gleamed over their big room.

Walking over, he laid Ryoma onto the bed. "Hey," he said, grabbing a pillow and lightly throwing it at his face. "Wake up."

Ryoma muttered something inaudible and rolled over onto his side, his hands curled in fists.

Nanjiroh groaned, rolling his eyes. _How was he supposed to wake the kid up? _

Gently, he shook his shoulders. "Ryoma, c'mon."

Ryoma made a small noise, before one golden eye managed to flicker open. He winced, opening another eye, and tried to adjust to the light. Groaning, he saw his father grinning devilishly at him. With much effort, he propped his head up on his fist, his elbow digging into the soft blankets of the bed. "Oyaji?" he mumbled, still half-asleep.

Nanjiroh rolled his eyes, ruffling his hair. "You need to eat, kid."

Ryoma looked at him incredously. "Eat?" he said, baffled. "I'll eat tomorrow. I'm _tired._"

"You haven't eaten since lunch at school. You skipped dinner, if you didn't realize."

"Like I did it willingly." Ryoma said under his breath. As if on cue, his stomach growled. He frowned, glancing up at his father who was smirking in triumph.

"See? You're hungry!" Nanjiroh declared, grabbing his son by the wrist and dragging him to his feet. Ryoma clumsily got his footing and stumbled after his father down the stairs, sleepy, bruised, and ready to trip over the stairs.

When they got downstairs, they could hear the television running in the living room. Nanjiroh poked his head in to see Rinko sitting rigidly on the couch, watching. Shrugging, he went back into the kitchen and pulled a chair out, to which Ryoma sat down on right away.

"What am I supposed to eat?" Ryoma said dryly. "I don't suppose _you_ can cook."

"The disrespectfulness!" Nanjiroh said, shaking his head. "The attitude!"

Ryoma smirked. "So what _am_ I supposed to eat?"

Nanjiroh pronounced each syllable with emphasis. "L-E-F-T-O-V-E-R-S."

Ryoma twitched. His father could be so annoying at times. Frowning, the boy swivelled on the chair, waiting for his food. His fingers grasped the seat of chair, tightening and loosening. He wasn't close to comfort yet – he could joke around, smirk, act cocky, but he wasn't going to deny the fact that he was scared. He wouldn't admit it to _them_, but his mother being in the living room was making him uneasy.

Nanjiroh noticed Ryoma's shifty eyes. "Ne, you alright?"

Ryoma stilled. "Yeah. Just, um, okaa-san…"

The clattering of culinary stopped. "She's in the living room. You want to go talk to her?"

Ryoma swallowed thickly. "No, I'm – uh, hungry." He quickly said. He didn't want to sound fearful of seeing his mother but the last thing he wanted to do was be alone with her in the living room. What if she tried to beat the crap out of him again? His fingers delicately ran over the harsh bruise on the side of his forehead and his left eye squinted in pain.

Nanjiroh stared at him hard. "Is that the only reason you don't want to go talk to her?"

Ryoma gulped, nodding vigorously. He wiped her sweaty palms against Tezuka's pajamas. (Which reminded him, he would have to remember to return those). He hated feeling nervous and uncertain – he was not familiar with the feeling and whenever it did occur, it made him feel vulnerable.

"Ryoma?" Nanjiroh repeated.

"Yeah." The boy's voice softened. "That's the only reason."


	17. To Add A Bit of Spice

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Hey guys! xD Here's another update. BTW, I thought I'd watched all the Prince of Tennis episodes but I realized I missed the bowling episode and I was so happy to have a fresh new one to watch! And it was hilarious! Definitely re-watch worthy!

**Warnings:** Short chapters, weekly updates, now moving at a slow-pace, and some OOC on Nanjiroh and Rinko.

* * *

Nanjiroh wondered if he should press his son further, but decided not to. Ryoma looked like he would murder the next person who interrogated him about what happened. Candidly, the father grabbed two bowls and slid one in front of Ryoma.

"What are the leftovers?" Ryoma asked, peering at the empty bowl, suspicious of what was going to be filled inside. His stomach grumbled again and he frowned. He had never realized how hungry he was.

"Pasta, remember?"

"Che, American food," was the boy's response.

Nanjiroh shot him a look. "Be grateful."

"No."

His son was a bit of a brat, Nanjiroh decided. No question about it. He supposed it came from himself, though. Flinging open the cabinets, he looked for the pasta sauce that Rinko had packed in a can for when she didn't have time to make dinner. His eyes surveyed the drawers. "Ugh, I think the sauce is downstairs in the cellar room." His eyes flicked to Ryoma. "Kid, will ya go get it?"

Ryoma gave him a look of disbelief. "No. You do it."

Nanjiroh rolled his eyes. "Hn, I think you're forgetting who you're talking to."

"I didn't forget. I'm talking to baka oyaji. Key word, _baka._" Ryoma emphasized. He leaned back into his chair and watched his father glare at him before a fork clattered into the bowl. Nanjiroh scowled in his son's direction. "Wait here. I'll be back from downstairs in a little while."

Ryoma grinned as his father thundered down the basement stairwell, his footsteps fading away. His father loved to tease him and make him annoyed, but the younger boy was an expert at doing it back as well.

Bored, Ryoma put on his aloof expression and spun the fork around his plate. He kind of wanted to play tennis, but it was too late and too dark and he was actually sleepy and hungry too – so tennis was definitely out of the question. He always surprised himself by how much tennis meant to him; when he didn't feel right or something was wrong, he didn't cry or talk about it to someone. He just played tennis, and in that moment of exhilaration, he could take out all his stress and be fine afterwards.

Maybe that was how he always managed to seem like he never had any problems. Then again, tennis couldn't solve everything.

He knew that the moment he heard the television in the living room shut off and the soft footsteps of Rinko become louder as they neared the kitchen.

Ryoma hunched over his bowl, staring it at it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. His heart rung wildly in his ears. _She was waiting, _he mentally cursed in his head, _Waiting for the moment Oyaji got out of the room._

"Ryoma," his mother's long drawl filled the room. Ryoma didn't dare look up.

"Ryoma," Rinko repeated, eyes flashing. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Hurry up oyaji! How long does it take to get something from the basement anyway! _Ryoma spun slightly on the stool and glanced hesitantly up at his mother. Tremors ran through his body but he tried not to let his fear show, instead choosing to sit perfectly still and matching his mother's intense gaze. His tilted his chin up bravely. "What do you want, okaa-san?"

"You know, Ryoma," his mother said sweetly. In three long strides, she was next to him by his chair. Ryoma shivered, averting his eyes back to the ground. "Today I'm supposed to sleep on the couch. Do you want to know why that is?" her tone became rough. "Your father decided that you should sleep in our bed today because you were just _so_ injured_._"

Ryoma sunk deeper in his chair. "Sorry?" he tried. He didn't like letting go of his pride and apologizing but if that was going to keep his mother from hitting him sixty times like last time, he would go for it. He bit his lip. "Not that it's my fault."

Rinko growled, surprisingly low for a female. She grabbed Ryoma's wrist and tightened her hold around it. At the touch, she could feel every muscle in her son's body tense up and she smirked gleefully. "Some people deserve being hurt." She whispered, so quietly that Ryoma barely caught it.

"Ryoma?" Nanjiroh's voice echoed through the room and the thudding of footsteps clattered. "I couldn't find it so I think you're going to have to eat cereal or some-"

His father walked into the room, and he abruptly stopped talking. He saw Rinko standing by their son, but all he could focus on was the tight grip she had on his wrist – so tight, in fact, that the skin around it had turned red.

"Rinko?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Rinko gasped under her breath, quickly loosening her hold but not pulling away, because that would have made her look suspicious. "I was just telling Ryoma that he should watch a show with me. I know I'm always busy with work so we never really get time to bond and-"

"Bond, huh?" Nanjiroh said coolly. The circumstances and the facts were rising to the fact that Rinko had been the one to hurt his son, but he wouldn't jump to conclusions, nor would he let it go either. Once he heard Fuji and Tezuka's theory tomorrow, he would decide what to do next.

"Yes, bond." Rinko nodded feverishly.

Nanjiroh's eyes flickered to his son. "Bonding? Is that what she said?"

Ryoma was shaking so hard he found it impossible to stop, and he prayed his father wouldn't notice. Rinko's last words had really shaken him up. 'Some people deserve being hurt.' He swallowed hard, his toes curling inside his shoes, trying to look casual as his mother's fingers brushed across his wrist, slowly letting go.

"Is that what she said?" Nanjiroh asked again.

Ryoma glanced sideways at his mother's face and immediately swallowed. She had a look on her face that clearly read 'Don't you dare', her brown pupils flamed with demand.

He turned back to his father and met his eyes.

"Yeah," he murmured, wondering why he was lying. "that's exactly what she said."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! :)**


	18. To A Fresh New Day (Well, Not Exactly)

** Crumbling**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **We're nearing an end with this story – I know it was fairly short, especially with the abuse and stuff – I _mean_, they found out fairly quickly, but I didn't think it would take long until they did in general. xD I can't say I'm exactly proud of this story, but I'm going to finish it because so many people are reading it and I'm surprised to say this is my most popular story yet so far that I've done Thanks for your support!

**Warnings:** Short chapters, weekly updates, now moving at a slow-pace, and some OOC on Nanjiroh and Rinko. This chapter lacks dialogue…

* * *

After Rinko went back to the living room to sleep, Nanjiroh and Ryoma finished dinner in silence. The only exchange of conversation repeatedly went like this: "Che, you gunna tell me what happened yet?", with the haughty reply of, "Hn, never oyaji."

Once they'd completed the food, Nanjiroh ushered Ryoma to sleep. The boy fell into slumber the moment his head fell on the pillow, tired from the exhaustion of the long day. In contrast, his father lay awake for a rather lengthy time, thoughts muddled in his head.

The pieces were slowly starting to connect together, with one conclusion – it was probably _Rinko._ Of course, Nanjiroh thought it was incredulous that his wife would do such a thing. Sure, she was a busy women and stressed out from work, but she had always treated their son with respect and warmth. He remembered the fiery girl he'd met back when he'd first come to America; the one with the carefree smile and determined passion. How could that girl ever hurt someone like that?

_Maybe, _Nanjiroh thought sadly, _the girl I fell in love with all those years ago isn't the same girl she is now._

He didn't want to believe it but everything made sense now. His stomach clenched as he recalled a few days back, when Rinko had blown up at Ryoma for no absolute reason and yanked him in the air by his hair. Not to mention, this afternoon she'd lied about Ryoma coming home, when he _obviously _had been at the house at some point. She had excused it by saying she was in the shower, but that fact was a bit unconvincing.

Sighing, Nanjiroh rolled over and glanced at his son through the darkness. The boy was on his side, tufts of black hair over his forehead as he softly murmured in his sleep. Pressing his lips in a thin line, Nanjiroh decided he would try to go to sleep as well. He would confirm his suspicions about this tomorrow, when he talked to Ryoma's two friends.

* * *

Morning came far too quickly for Ryoma's liking. Sun filtered into his room in pale shafts, blinding his eyes as he tried to adjust to the brightness. With a soft groan, he managed to sit up. He immediately groaned again, more audible this time. Every part of his body ached with pain and a headache had formed from sleeping so late the night before.

"And now I have to go to school." Ryoma muttered to himself, heaving the covers off. He glanced at his father who was still asleep and quietly slipped off the bed, walking into the bathroom.

The moment he saw his face in the mirror, he reeled backwards, almost slamming into the door behind him.

His heart pounded hard and furious. He hadn't noticed the night before – he'd been all too tired to care; but now he saw exactly what had happened and the shock was stunning. There was a heavy bruise on the side of his face, dark and more visible than before if it was possible. Accompanying it were several small cuts across his usually flawless skin, similar to the ones he'd got when he faced the Deep Impulse in tennis.

Ryoma started to fret. He was usually calm but this situation wasn't exactly your every-day problem. Even though he could hide any damage on his legs and arms with his school uniform, there was no way he would be able to explain his face. He swallowed thickly and started to brush his teeth. When he stepped into the hot shower, he decided his best bet was to try to convince his father to stay home today. He was sure he could get away with it if he tried to act super tired and injured from yesterday's events.

Once Ryoma had changed into his school clothes, he walked down the stairwell and into the kitchen for breakfast. The first thing he noticed was Nanako.

She stood at the sink and washed dishes from the night before, a melody of a song hummed under her breath as she worked. A plate of Japanese breakfast was out on his seat at the table.

"Good morning," Ryoma mumbled, sliding into his chair.

"Good morning, Ryoma-kun!" Nanako said cheerfully. She put down the last dish and shot the boy a megawatt smile. A smile that froze halfway the moment she saw his face. In an instant, the dishes were left undone and she was by the boy's side.

"What-what happened?" she panicked, taking in his cuts and bruises, horror filling her friendly expression. She ran her finger across his cheek and watched as the preteen winced and tried to swat her hand away.

"Nothing…at all." Ryoma shifted in his seat, trying to change the subject. "Where were you last night?"

Nanako stared at him in disbelief. "Ano…my boyfriend's place…but _that's_ not important right now. You're hurt. Do Aunt and Uncle know about this?"

_Do they ever._

Ryoma was sick of all the interrogation from last night. The last thing he wanted was to be questioned bright and early in the morning too, when he was almost always in a bad mood. "Look," he was surprised to find his voice shaking and quickly steadied it. "Oyaji knows, so if you could, please leave me alone, I'd appreciate it."

Nanako hitched her breath, looking slightly hurt. She nodded quickly. "Okay, well…eat your food."

Ryoma nodded absentmindedly, poking his fork into his plate. He didn't know how he was supposed to go to school again. A sudden thought made him smile a little.

_At least,_ he thought. _If I'm forced to go to school, I'll see buchou at tennis practice again._

That thought alone was enough to make him feel a bit better and he took a bite out of his food, deciding that he was going to have to make the best of things whether he liked it or not. He didn't notice Nanako's concerned glances or the throbbing in his head as he melted into daydream about the handsome captain that had helped him the night before.

**Thanks for reading! **


	19. To Have An Emotional Overload

** Crumbling**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Okay, so we're not _really _nearing an end – well, we _are_, but there are still quite a few chapters left. Anyway, lots of people complained about the chapters being too short, and although most of my chapters will be short, I decided to write a longer one this time! Here you go! This is almost triple times as much as my usual chapters!

**Warnings:** Short chapters, weekly updates, now moving at a slow-pace, and some OOC on Nanjiroh and Rinko.

* * *

Still lost in his thoughts about Tezuka, it took a moment for Ryoma to realize his father had come down the stairwell and slipped into the chair opposite of him. As Nanjiroh flipped open a newspaper and started to hum under his breath, the boy averted his eyes to glance at the living room. He figured his mother had already left for work and was beyond grateful for that. He didn't need to deal with her this morning.

Returning his gaze to his father once again, Ryoma decided he might as well get it over with.

"Oyaji," he cleared his throat, placing his fork onto the table with a soft clatter. Nanjiroh looked up questioningly.

"Can I…stay home from school today?"

"Stay home from school?" If Nanjiroh was surprised by the question, he didn't show it. Instead, he just leaned back into his chair and folded his arms behind his head. "Of course not. Why're ya asking such a ridiculous thing?"

Ryoma wondered if his father needed glasses. Could the old man not _see_ the infinite damage to his face? Sitting forward, gold eyes glared at Nanjiroh. His father sighed, taking a long sip of his coffee and steepling his fingers against the table.

He had expected his son to ask that, but he wasn't sure if Ryoma should skip school or not. The cuts on his face were noticeable but it wouldn't really make a difference if he missed today. The bruises would still be there the following day and the day after that, and he wasn't about to let his son miss a whole _week_ of school.

"You're going to school." Nanjiroh finalized with a shrug.

Ryoma's face fell with uncertainty. Underneath the table, his fingers clenched and unclenched. "But oyaji…" he hissed through his teeth, glancing to make sure Nanako wasn't listening. "How am I supposed to…"

He didn't quite know how to finish his sentence so he gestured to his face.

Nanjiroh picked up his newspaper and flipped open to another random page, staring at the page but not really reading it. "Dunno. Say you got gang-beat or something."

Ryoma was starting to get made. "_Oyaji_," his tone neared desperate. "I can't go to school like this."

Nanjiroh discretely peered over his newspaper. His brows furrowed in concern. He felt kind of bad as his boy worriedly stared at his plate, looking like any previous hope he had had left had deflated into nothing.

"Ryoma-" Nanjiroh began gently.

Ryoma scowled. "_What_? I don't care what you have to say, okay? I'll go to school looking like this because obviously nobody cares, and it doesn't matter."

"Maybe if you told me what happened-"

That was the last straw. Ryoma pushed his chair in and abruptly stood up. "Will you _please_ stop asking that stupid question? I'm sick of it, all of it. Everything's okay. I've said it a million times and I'll say it again, I'm _fine_."

His voice cracked at the end and he hurriedly grabbed his tennis bag. Without a word, he left a shocked Nanako and Nanjiroh at the kitchen while he ran out of the house. His face was surprisingly flushed red and his heart felt like it would never calm down.

Why did everyone keep asking him about what happened? Didn't they know he wanted to be left alone?

Ryoma's lips quivered as he stepped down his porch steps.

How many times did he have to tell them the same thing over and over and over again?

_I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay…_ the words chorused in his head until he felt like he was going to be sick. Of course he wasn't okay. If he was, he wouldn't have yelled like that and he wouldn't have tears stinging in his eyes. With a huff, he rubbed his eyes and stared at the broad stretch of sky above him with a look of pleading.

He wasn't ready for all the questions everyone was going to ask. He just couldn't deal with it anymore. It was weird, because all his life he'd been the center of attention, couldn't care less about what people though, oozing with self-esteem. Yet today, for the first time, he felt all his confidence slowly start to wash away.

The image of the very first morning his mother had slapped him flashed in his mind, and he recalled the innocent thoughts that had run through his mind when it had happened. He had thought it would be a onetime thing, something that never happened again. He thought he'd be able to resume his life normally.

"How wrong I was…" he said bitterly to himself. "She…how could she do that? My own mother…"

Maybe the shock of the whole thing was finally hitting him, but suddenly he just wanted to sit on the porch steps and cry until he couldn't. He just wanted to stay home and be left alone. He realized why this was so much harder than anything he'd ever dealt with before. It was a situation that tennis couldn't fix, and that wasn't something he'd ever faced.

Before the boy could contemplate further, he was broke off by the sound of his best friend.

"Yo, Echizen!"

Momoshiro appeared at the corner of the street, grinning from ear to ear under the sunlight. "You ready to go?" the boy asked.

Ryoma caught his breath and stiffened. With a nod, he hurried over to where Momoshiro was, making sure to keep his head ducked down the entire time.

"Momo-senpai," he greeted. His voice sounded weird even to himself. He was surprised when Momoshiro didn't seem to notice.

"You won't believe what I heard about Mamushi," the older boy immediately started to chatter amiably. "Apparantly we had this in-class movie watching thing and it was horror movie and he actually got –" the boy glanced at his friend. "like, scared or some-"

When he cast his gaze on the boy's face, there was a sudden gasp. "Ech-echizen…" he started, staring at his skin in horror.

Ryoma knew what was coming, but he so badly wished it didn't. "Not a word," he begged softly, voice trembling. "Please, not a word."

Momoshiro just stared at him and nodded dumbfounded. Confusion swept in his purple eyes but he couldn't find the strength to question him again. Not after he had heard the pleading tone of his kohai, so delicate and hopeless.

As they continued to walk, Momoshiro remembered when Ryoma had asked if his parents had ever hit him before. When Momoshiro had asked why he had asked that, the boy had replied with, "Just asking."

Momoshiro now wondered if there had been something behind that nonchalant response – something that he'd missed.

The two friends walked the rest of the way in silence. Ryoma had never felt so grateful to Momoshiro as he did then – he needed time to recompose himself and it seemed his friend had understood perfectly. Straightening his shoulders, Ryoma took a deep breath.

_Just tell them to leave you alone._

_They can't __make__ you answer._

He brushed a few strands of dark hair from his face and decided he would ignore everyone. When they reached the front steps of the school, Ryoma found himself reluctant to leave Momoshiro's side. The strength of his best friend didn't make him feel as alone and he wanted nothing more than for Momoshiro to be his bodyguard from all the questioning faces.

It seemed the power-player felt the same way because he stayed glued to Ryoma's side as the bell rang for everyone to come inside. Momoshiro's violet eyes glanced at his kohai with a reassuring expression.

"I'll see you at practice, 'kay?"

Ryoma nodded stiffly. Momoshiro smiled encouragingly and started to walk away. However, just as he took a few steps forward, he suddenly looked behind his shoulder and called out:

"It'll be okay, you know?" he smiled an easy grin. "Whatever your problem is, it's gunna be okay."

Ryoma stood there watching as his friend lifted his hand up in a crooked wave before he disappeared into the mass of students, his head peeking among the crowd. A feeling of warmth washed over Ryoma and he felt his gold eyes regain some of their spark.

Maybe it was because Momoshiro had been so _casual_ when he said it, or maybe because he'd sounded so carefree. Whatever it was, it made Ryoma feel like his situation wasn't as bad anymore.

_And that's why he's my best friend, _Ryoma realized.

With a deep breath, he started to walk up the brick steps of Seishoun Gakuen, breathing in the summer air and feeling the sunlight bask over his cheeks. And maybe it was just him, but the school seemed to part way for his entrance.

* * *

If Momoshiro had made him feel a bit better in the morning, it didn't last very long. Any hint of happiness disappeared as first period started.

The students didn't ask him questions like he'd expected – they did even worse. They _stared_. They stared as he walked into the classroom. They stared as he slid into his chair at the back of the room. They stared when he spoke to answer a question.

Then, they turned to their classmates and started to whisper, hurriedly looking away whenever Ryoma tried to glare at them. The boy had no doubt that there would be a ridiculous rumour by the end of the day.

Horio had loudly asked, "Eh, Echizen, what happened to your face?" in second period, and everyone had murmured in agreement. Ryoma had simply scowled murderously to shut them all up, but his determination was dropping quickly.

Tomoka had done the same thing in third period class, fretting and babbling endlessly. Sakuno, on the other hand, just looked at him with concern yet otherwise concentrated on her work. That's why he liked Sakuno. She was quiet and minded her own business unlike a certain pig-tailed girl who wouldn't shut the hell up about how, "Ryoma-sama looks perfect even though he's bruised. Ryoma-sama _always _looks perfect."

Even a few of the teachers had worriedly asked him if everything was fine at home or if someone was bullying him. He had just nodded his head and ran out of there the moment the bell rang.

By the time lunch came around, Ryoma felt exhausted. "Move outta my way," he muttered under his breath as he tried to manoeuver past the crowded hallway to his favourite spot; the roof. Keeping his head down, he reached the top of the stairs and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was empty today.

Feeling like he finally had caught a break, Ryoma flopped down onto his stomach and let the tension release from his body. He buried his face in his arms and closed his eyes, the soft breeze tickling his nose. Maybe he could just sleep away his worries, because for once, he had a feeling his dreams would be better than reality.

It was odd, really. He'd never felt so much unlike himself. So confused, so worried…so – Ryoma shifted – _scared._

Without making a move to unpack his lunch, gold eyes peered out at the view below him. Students filtered around, laughing, talking with their friends, not at all concerned about what was going to happen to them when they got home. Ryoma felt jealous.

Ryoma shifted again. His stomach growled but he couldn't make himself eat, afraid he would throw it up if he did. His stomach was in tight knots and his throat burned with the oncoming of tears. Ryoma blinked furiously.

_I will not cry again, I will not cry, I will not cry…._

Suddenly, in the middle of his mantra, Ryoma heard the roof door creak open. He jerked himself into a sitting position and whipped his head in the direction of the entrance. His heart nearly stopped, but not from panic.

From relief.

"Buchou…" his mouth formed the word but he knew the captain hadn't heard him say it.

"Buchou." Ryoma said again, more clearly this time.

Tezuka looked at him and couldn't help but feel a little lighter when he saw the boy was managing – barely, but managing all the same. The captain had not been able to get a wink of sleep the night before, the worry and the concern for Seigaku's youngest regular taking over his mind. At lunch, Momoshiro had informed him that the preteen was probably eating his lunch on the roof, and Tezuka hadn't wasted a minute getting up there to make sure he was okay after last night.

Now, standing there, seeing his innocent features stare back at him, Tezuka was reminded of when the boy had cried into his chest last night.

"Echizen." Tezuka walked over and sat down next to him. He saw the boy's eyes widen slightly and the captain supressed a smile from seeing how surprised Ryoma looked when he had sat down,

"Why…are you here? Ryoma trailed off. He had thought he wanted peace and quiet, a moment to himself – but seeing Tezuka's deep brown eyes bore into his made him shiver with thrill.

Tezuka cleared his throat. "To check up on you. Those bruises still look pretty harsh, even after we applied Fuji's special spray last night."

Ryoma self-consciously touched his cheek and grimaced to himself.

"It still hurts?" Tezuka asked.

The boy glanced up and frowned. "Not really."

Tezuka fought another urge to smile. He remembered how many times Ryoma had been hurt in a tennis match but whenever Coach Ryuuzaki asked him if it hurt, he would always deny it, even if there was clear proof that it did. It was nice to know that Ryoma was still himself, just a little broken.

"How'd your day go?" Tezuka asked after a moment of silence. He saw Ryoma's shoulders tense.

"Fine." He murmured. When the boy glanced up and faced the captain, Tezuka was stunned to see an overwhelming amount of distress in his gold eyes. "It was…I don't know…it wasn't…"

"Echize-"

Ryoma started to shake. "I don't know what to do anymore. I- I-" he'd never felt so helpless before and his body began to tremble. _Not now, not now…you've been in control the whole day, don't lose it in front of buchou…_

Tezuka watched him with sadness in his expression. "What happened? Is everything alright?"

Ryoma was still shaking – harder now. "Nothing's okay." He took a long gulp of air, trying to calm himself down. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do…Okaa-san…how c-could she?"

Ryoma closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Why did he always have to act so weak when Tezuka was here? The whole day he'd glared at everyone who dared say something and managed to act normal but the moment the captain stepped into his presence, he found himself wanting to release everything he'd been holding back.

Meanwhile, Tezuka's mouth had parted in shock. So Fuji's prediction had been right. Someone in Ryoma's family _had_ been abusing him – and worst of all, it was his own mother. _Poor, poor kid, _the older boy thought, his heart thumping in his chest. He watched as Ryoma suddenly covered his face with the palms of his hands.

"Echizen, let me promise you something…" Tezuka reached his hand out and removed Ryoma's fingers from his face. Tears were trickling everywhere. Tezuka wiped the wetness with his thumb and gently caressed his red cheek. "I promise that everything will be okay soon."

Ryoma stared at the captain, breathing hard. "P-promise?" he sniffled. He slowly leaned into the brown-haired boy's arm, exhaustion taking over.

Tezuka rubbed his back. "Didn't I just say that?" he raked through Ryoma's tufts of black hair to try to calm him down. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll handle everything from now on."

Ryoma's hands tightened around the captain. He coughed, burying his face into the older boy's chest. "Okay," he said hoarsely. He paused. "…thank you…"

Tezuka exhaled loudly, gripping the smaller boy. His heart fluttered with a bunch of unknown emotions bursting in his mind. Anger to the women who had made even the strongest boy crumble. Love for the boy who had captured his attention the moment he'd strode into the tennis courts with his ever-confident smirk. Care for the boy who needed him now more than ever.

The captain smiled faintly and held Ryoma silently until the bell rang, prepared to keep his promise in whatever way he could.


	20. To Express Reactions

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **As usual, I appreciate all the support. I had a hard time writing this chapter for some reason, so sorry if the dialogue seems dull or stiff. xD Oh, and the story will be 27 chapters long…so seven more until it's complete…but the chapters will be getting considerably longer now…this one was once again almost triple times normal length…

**Warnings:** Weekly-ish updates. OOC big time on Rinko.

* * *

With Tezuka's comfort lingering, Ryoma managed to make it through last period without having a mental breakdown. Even though people continued to shoot him odd looks, Ryoma simply drowned them all out by remembering the way his buchou had caressed his cheek and wiped away his tears. When the day ended, Ryoma hurried out of the classroom towards his locker. His relief lasted less than a split second.

Something had dawned on him.

Tennis practice.

"Shit." Ryoma said to himself. He shoved his books in his locker, trying to think of ways he could skip practice. Although he had gone to school with the bruises, nobody in his classes knew him well enough to directly ask him. It would be a different story with the regulars.

Despite the fact that Momoshiro had agreed not to ask any questions, he was sure the rest of the team was going to be persistent. Not to mention, when he changed into shorts and a t-shirt and they saw all the cuts on his arms and legs, they'd probably tie him to a tree and demand answers.

Because of his nerves, Ryoma walked faster than usual into the changerooms. He was surprised to be the first one there, but relieved too. He had some time to think.

Tennis bag thrown to the floor, Ryoma sat down on one of the benches. His fingers grasped the edges as he tried to think of what to do. Muddled thoughts about his teammates' reactions cluttered his mind.

He took a deep breath and tried to clear it.

He could always skip practice. Since Tezuka-buchou knew about his 'situation', the older boy would easily allow him to. But how was Tezuka supposed to explain why to Ryuuzaki-sensei without giving away what was wrong?

Ryoma had already forbid him from telling anyone about what had happened. They _could_ always lie, but would Tezuka – composed, honest Tezuka – agree to lying to their coach?

Ryoma sighed. He wasn't used to feeling uncertain or vulnerable. He wished he could pretend he didn't give a crap about walking out there with his bruises open for everyone to see, but deep inside, he cared about their reactions. The situation was too serious for him to handle it with his normal, blunt attitude.

His thoughts were interrupted by the changeroom door opening and two figures appearing in the doorway. Voices filled the changeroom.

"So, what exactly does Inui plan on having us do today, Tezuka?" Fuji's silky voice echoed off the walls.

"I don't know Fuji. I've already told you that."

"I don't believe you. How could the captain of the team not know what we're doing? It's kind of absurd."

Tezuka was about to reply but stopped short. Fuji followed his gaze and also paused when he saw Ryoma sitting there, watching them intently.

"Ah, Echizen-chan," Fuji drawled in greeting, lips quirking. "You look beat up."

"Wow, how in the world did you ever figure _that_ out?" Ryoma's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Fuji didn't bat an eyelash. "Sassy as ever, I see."

Ryoma blinked, wondering if Fuji had turned over a new leaf of being particularly annoying. He wasn't _sassy_, whatever that meant. No. Girls were sassy, and he was a boy. He would not be called such a thing. _Ugh, I'm starting to sound like Monkey King…get a grip Ryoma!_

With a scowl, Ryoma's gaze drifted to Tezuka. Their eyes met for a brief moment. Both of them immediately remembered the earlier conversation they had had on the roof. Ryoma wondered how Tezuka was going to keep his promise.

Fuji noticed the look they shared and hid his ever-growing smile behind his hand. "So, Echizen-chan, are you going to participate in practice today?"

Ryoma's eyes hardened. "Do I have an option?"

Even though he was speaking to Fuji, they all knew the question was actually directed to the captain.

Tezuka cleared his throat. "You don't have to change, but you should watch the practice. I'll say you're not feeling too well…" he paused, skimming Ryoma's tired expression. "…which is partially true anyway…"

Ryoma touched his cheek instinctevly. "They'll ask questions…"

Before Tezuka could respond, Fuji cut in, ""If they ask, tell them it's none of their business."

"My senpai won't let me off that easy…"

"If they keep asking questions," Fuji reasoned. "I'll just give them My Look."

"…your…look?"

The sadist's eyes flashed open and pierced into Ryoma's. A creepy smile, almost too calm, spread across his face – different from his usual one. Eeriness plastered his features and Ryoma found himself getting lost into the deepness in those icy blue orbs, almost like he was getting sucked in and hypnoti- Ryoma shook his head to snap out of it, almost shuddering.

Fuji grinned and returned to his usual expression. "See? I'm sure everyone will leave you alone after they see that."

"No doubt about that." Ryoma inwardly shivered. His senpai was scary.

Tezuka nodded. "And if that doesn't work, I'll threaten them with laps."

Ryoma couldn't help but feel warm on the inside. Outwards, he simply raised an eyebrow.

"Abusing your position as buchou, eh?"

Tezuka smiled with his eyes. "It's only to help you."

Ryoma's lips curved upwards and a beaming spark appeared in his golden pupils. They stared at each other for a long moment.

Fuji chuckled under his breath. As usual, Ryoma and Tezuka's interactions were always priceless. It was amusing to see the faint blush on Ryoma's cheeks and the uncomfortable yet pleased expression on Tezuka's. His blue eyes narrowed.

Aside from the exchange, he couldn't help but look at Ryoma's bruises with weary. He turned to Tezuka.

"Ne, did you call Echizen's dad to figure out when we want to meet today?"

Tezuka's eyes widened slightly. He remembered what Ryoma had let slip earlier up on the roof. "Actually," the teen said, almost unsurely. He glanced at Ryoma who was trying to make himself as small as possible. "Ryoma told me who…- he told me who has been hurting him."

Fuji's eyes abruptly flew open. His head whipped to the younger boy. "Who is it?" he almost hissed, a dark expression taking over his face.

Tezuka sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Do you want me to tell him or shall I?"

Ryoma's lip quivered. "I'll tell him." He turned to meet Fuji's intense stare. "It's…my…" he screwed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly. "…my m-mum."

Fuji's eyes changed to something much more intense the moment he heard the word, but he quickly composed himself and closed his eyes. He smiled, but it was clearly strained. "I see." He murmured under his breath. "You poor soul. Your own mother…that lady…I will _kill_ her when I see her."

"Fuji-" Tezuka said.

"No!" Ryoma declared. "Just because I told you doesn't mean you can run around doing whatever you want with the information. I don't want my mother to end up in jail. She'll stop soon!"

Fuji shook his head. "No, she won't. You're just too innocent to see that."

"No…she'll stop…" The lithe figure said stubbornly. "You're not allowed to do anything. Only buchou can, because he p-promised he would handle everything and I let him. I never gave you permission."

Fuji half-groaned. He was itching to get his revenge on the women that had hurt their kohai, but it was obvious Ryoma didn't want to do anything rash yet. That was probably smart, but Fuji wasn't exactly in his right mind at the moment. All he could think about was that bitch of a women hurting their little tennis prince.

_Saa…at least, Ryoma will let Tezuka help him. Tezuka will know what he's doing_

When he glanced over, he saw Tezuka and Ryoma's eyes locked again, sharing unspoken words. A blush adorned both of their faces.

Fuji forgot his anger for a moment.

_How cute, _he thought. Before he could smartly tease them, the door to the changeroom creaked open, announcing the prescence of one of their teammates. Ryoma quickly ducked his head and pulled his hat down while Tezuka tensed slightly. Only Fuji remained calm with his brilliant smile graced on his face.

"Oishi." The tensai greeted.

Oishi smiled and nodded, tennis bag slung over his shoulder. He quickly dropped it to the ground. "Fuji, Tezuka." He said in greeting. His gaze landed on Ryoma and an eyebrow quirked in surprise.

"Wow, Echizen's early today. That's a bit of a surprise."

Ryoma shifted, still keeping his head down the best he could without being too suspicious. Oishi frowned at the lack of response, and his inner concern for his teammate couldn't stay hidden. Casually, not wanting to embarrass the preteen, Oishi questioned, "Are you alright Echizen? You seem…down."

The vice-captain meant this literally and non-literally.

Ryoma grumbled something about 'no money for Ponta.'

Oishi bit his lip, looking at Tezuka with a questioning glance. Tezuka, for once, did not meet his friend's eyes and instead glanced down at the tense boy on the bench. He inwardly sighed. Ryoma couldn't keep his head in that position forever, and one way or another, the regulars were _going _to see his face. It was better to get the reactions out of the way now rather than in the middle of practice.

Tezuka put his hand on Ryoma's shoulder, gently prodding him. "Don't hide it."

Ryoma frowned. He hesitantly looked up.

Oishi gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth. "E-Echizen."

"What?" the boy spat.

In less than a split second, the vice-captain was at Ryoma's side, hands cradling his face as he scanned the bruises up and down. His eyes had frantic concern in them. "This is awful. What happened? Does it hurt? Should we take you to the hospital? Maybe we shou-"

Ryoma winced. "It doesn't…hurt."

"Then why are you wincing?" Oishi almost yelled. His face was flushed. He had never seen his kohai's face so brutally beat up and the worry was too much for him to bear.

Tezuka tried to detach Oishi from Ryoma. "He'll be okay Oishi. I've already spoke to him. There's nothing to worry about."

Oishi's eyes locked with the captain and his worry died down a little. "Tezuka…but…but look at those cuts-"

"I know. I'm handling everything. For now, it would be best for him if you left him alone."

"How can I do that though? He's our kohai. It's our job to protect him if someone's harming him." Oishi sounded near desperate.

Tezuka nodded firmly. "Of course it is. Fuji and I are taking care of it, so you don't need to worry. Echizen just need his privacy."

Oishi looked like he was on the verge of hyperventilating, but he managed to take a deep breath and calm down. Tezuka's voice always held authority and assurance, so he knew Ryoma was in good hands. With one more concerned look at Ryoma, who simply darted his eyes away, Oishi nodded in acceptance. "Okay…" he finally said. "I won't ask questions. But…be careful, okay? We all care about you."

"I know." Ryoma mumbled. He glanced at Fuji who just looked amused with the whole situation. Ryoma glared at him. How could the sadist be _amused_ by this? Fuji caught his glare and simply shrugged. He wasn't amused by any means by the fact that Ryoma was getting hurt at home. It was just funny to see how much the regulars coddled the boy.

Tezuka was just about to relax when the door flung open and Kikumaru flew inside. "Yahoo!" he cried, doing a twirl in the air before landing on his feet. He immediately latched onto Oishi's arm. "Guess what Oishi? I got an A on my exam. Isn't that greeeat?"

Kikumaru's eyes twinkled with delight. Oishi sighed and smiled, used to his friend's bubbly personality. The red-head looked around and greeted everyone, his sharp eyes immediately noticing that Ryoma was already here. And of course, his sharp eyes also immediately noticed the damage to his face.

"Ochi-Ochibi?" the smile froze on Kikumaru's face.

Ryoma swallowed hard. Oishi might have been easier to handle, but Kikumaru?

"Ochibi." Kikumaru repeated. The air had stilled. There was a long, long moment of silence.

Then, Kikumaru started to wail.

"OCHIIIBI! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE, NYA? WHO BULLIED OUR OCHIBI?!" The yelling Kikumaru leaped over to Ryoma and strangled him into an embrace, roughly rocking him back and forth while rubbing his head with his knuckle.

"Who hurt our baby boy?" Kikumaru demanded. "Ochibi, tell me now!"

Ryoma coughed, squirming to get comfortable in Kikumaru's ever-tight grip. After a second, he gave up and let the older boy squeeze his lungs out. "It's – nothing." He finally managed to wheeze out. Kikumaru relaxed his grip but the panic in his face was clear.

"What happened everyone? Someone tell me something!"

Kikumaru's eyes instantly met Oishi's. "Oishi, why is Ochibi-chan bruised?"

"I…I don't- I don't know…"

A whimper escaped the usually cheerful boy. His eyes darted to Fuji who was standing innocently trying not to gather anyone's attention. "Fujiko! Do _you_ know what happened?"

Fuji smiled. "A little. It's really okay, though. Tezuka and I are handling it."

"But Ochibi," Kikumaru mumbled sadly, still hugging the boy. "He's hurt."

Tezuka cleared his throat. "It's fine. Fuji's right. We're handling it."

Kikumaru stared at the captain, his big blue eyes filled with distress. Finally, he slumped his shoulders and entangled himself from Ryoma. He slid over and slouched unhappily, his good mood completely disappearing. "Okay…nya…nobody tells me anything…"

Oishi sighed. "I don't know either Eiji. It's for Echizen's privacy. I'm sure he'll tell us when he's ready."

Ryoma, meanwhile, was rubbing his sore neck. "Kikumaru-senpai, it's not a big deal."

"How can you _say _that?" Kikumaru muttered. He seemed to be deflated – the complete opposite of his usual attitude. Oishi went over and wrapped a comforting arm around his friend. "I'm sure Echizen's fine. Tezuka is handling it, so we know he wouldn't let Echizen get hurt if something serious was happening."

Kikumaru frowned, but he seemed to regain some of his brightness from Oishi's words. "Okay…" he finally said. He turned around and smiled at Ryoma. "Okay, Ochibi! But just 'cause you're bruised doesn't mean you're going to escape my hugs, nya!"

Ryoma smirked. "Mada Mada Dane, Kikumaru-senpai."

Tezuka wanted so badly to smile at Kikumaru and thank him. Ryoma hadn't shown that cocky smirk for a while now, so it was nice that Kikumaru had been the one to make him express it. He knew Ryoma was fond of both Kikumaru and Momoshiro, even if he didn't say it out loud. Tezuka had a suspicion it was because they were probably the two most childish out of the team, and although Ryoma acted more than his age, he probably enjoyed hanging out with people that didn't seem like adults compared to him.

Just then, Tezuka's contemplative thoughts were broken by the door once again opening. This time, Inui and Kaidoh walked in together. Ryoma, Tezuka, and Fuji all inwardly sighed in relief. Both Inui and Kaidoh were going to be worried, but they weren't one to ask too many questions.

Inui's attention to detail immediately caught Ryoma's face. They could see him stop in shock. If there was something Inui couldn't predict, it had to be this. "Ah…Echizen…" he mumbled. To everyone's surprise, he didn't say another word after that.

Instead, he whipped out his notebook and started to scribble _furiously_, like he'd just discovered the cure to cancer. "This doesn't make sense…data doesn't make sense…"

Kaidoh's eyes widened in alarm when he saw his kohai. He would have probably asked a few questions too, but Tezuka nodded at him reassuringly so he refrained.

"You okay?" The second-year asked gruffly. Ryoma nodded quickly, thankful that neither Kaidoh nor Inui were very talkative. Kikumaru's outburst had been enough for one day. When Kawamura joined them, his eyes widened and he asked in concern if everything was alright, but like Kaidoh and Inui, he didn't pester him when he saw Tezuka's reassuring look.

"Hey, Ochibi?" Kikumaru asked, throwing off his t-shirt. "Are you going to play today?"

Ryoma averted his eyes to the captain who quickly spoke up for him. "Echizen isn't feeling well today, so he'll probably just watch us practice."

"Nyaa?"

Oishi nodded. "I understand. I wouldn't be feeling very well if I had those kind of bruises on my face either."

Ryoma was amazed at how much the vice-captain had calmed down. Before he could reply, however, the door burst open one more time.

A panting Momoshiro barged inside, face flushed red. "Sorry – I'm – late."

"We're still changing." Kawamura raised an eyebrow.

Momoshiro blanched, still holding his stomach and take long gulps of air. "So – I ran – all – the –way – here – for – _gasp_ – nothing." All the regulars nodded sympathetically. Momoshiro groaned and dumped his tennis bag onto the bench. He plopped down and started to tie his shoelace. "Hn, and I thought I was going to get in trouble with buchou again."

His violet eyes flitted to Ryoma and Momoshiro smiled. "Hey, Echizen. Where's your hat?"

Ryoma shrugged. He wasn't about to tell him that he didn't wear his hat because it had bloodstains on it. "Forgot it."

"Ah. I don't think I ever seen you play tennis without your hat on."

"Hm. It's good for blocking the sunlight."

The rest of the regulars, aside from Tezuka who simply raised an eyebrow and Fuji who tilted his head in confusion, stared at Momoshiro and Ryoma converse with jaws dropped.

"Momo," Oishi said, startled. "Don't you notice the bruises on Ryoma's face? You didn't even mention it when you came in."

"Yeah, Yeah." Kikumaru bobbed his head in agreement. "He's your friend. Aren't you extremely worried?"

Momoshiro smiled easily. "You guys forget that I walk Echizen to school every morning. I've already seen him before all of you."

Ryoma, Fuji, and Tezuka all mentally thought: _Not exactly._ They didn't say that out loud of course.

"Did he tell you what happened?" Inui took the rare chance and looked up from his notebook.

The smile on Momoshiro's face lessened. "No…"

Everyone started to chatter about what could have possibly happened to Ryoma. Tezuka noticed that the said boy was looking very uncomfortable and appeared to want to shoot all his friends with his eyes. Sighing, Tezuka cleared his throat and prepared his 'buchou' voice that got everyone to quiet down.

"Everyone, let's stop talking about Echizen and start practice. Out to the courts, now!"

"Haaiii…" Came the response.

* * *

Ryoma felt oddly comforted sitting on the bench next to the captain while everyone else practiced. Actually, that whole scene was so perfect and familiar that he almost forgot about the fact that he was brutally beat up by his own mother a few nights ago. _Almost,_ anyway.

The young boy watched as Momoshiro sent a spectacular dunk smash Oishi's way. Oishi managed to touch the ball with his racket but the ball was so strong it bounced out of the vice-captain's control.

"Everyone's pumped up." Ryoma muttered. He looked longingly at the racket that lay next to him.

Tezuka nodded. "They practice like it's a game. That's good. That's how it's supposed to be."

"…I want to play."

There was sigh in response. "I know you do, Ryoma. But its best you rest and let those bruises heal. Plus, if you changed into shorts and a t-shirt, we'd have to deal with even more questions from our teammates. You understand, don't you?"

Ryoma, disgruntled, grabbed the racket from the ground and slid the smooth handle over his palms. His fingers itched to play – he hadn't played since yesterday's practice, and for Ryoma, that was a _long_ time. "I want to play." The boy repeated stubbornly.

Tezuka eyed him wearily. "Ryoma-"

"Please?" Ryoma tried. He turned to look at the captain and bit his lip, widening his eyes just a fraction. He wondered if pouting would go too far. Tezuka inwardly cursed as he resisted the temptation to bow down to those cute gold eyes and innocent gaze.

The captain attempted to stay composed. "To keep your mind off of tennis, I think this is the perfect time to call your father, right?"

"For what?"

Tezuka frowned. "Remember, we're going to talk to him about this whole thing? He doesn't know your mother was the one hurting you yet. We'll all sit down and have a long conversation to figure out what to do next."

He noticed Ryoma's scowl.

"And don't worry," his voice softened. He reached out and ran his fingers through Ryoma's hair. "We won't do anything without your permission."

Ryoma leaned into Tezuka's touch. "Okay. Call him. I'll tell you his number."

A few moments later, Tezuka had his cell phone to his ear and was speaking to Nanjiroh. His voice was so stunningly polite that Ryoma wondered if Tezuka was secretly an adult. "Yes, Nanjiroh-san. Mm, he's fine. Just watching the practice right now. We'll meet today then…how does…6:00 sound? My house? That's fine. Fuji will be there too."

There was a long pause. Tezuka tilted his head towards Ryoma. "I think…that's for Ryoma to tell you. I don't know if he wants me to say."

After a little more talking, Tezuka clicked his phone off and slipped it into his pocket. Ryoma was looking at him curiously so he nodded in reassurance. As Ryoma turned back to watch the game, Tezuka couldn't help but stare at the way Ryoma's gold eyes would sparkle as they followed the ball back and forth.

The boy would frown adorably whenever one of his teammates would miss the ball, and smirk when they would do something cunning. It was at that moment that Tezuka realized how much Ryoma actually cared about the regulars and being on the team. Most of the time, he was aloof and bored, so it fascinated Tezuka to see Ryoma so entranced by the motion of the tennis ball and rackets.

"You really want to play, don't you?" Tezuka murmured.

Ryoma glanced up in surprise. "Yeah. It's hard for me to watch people play tennis and not be able to. Even during tournaments, unless the match is really good, I normally can't wait until my turn to play."

"Ah, I remember, during the matches against Fudomine. You couldn't sit still."

Ryoma blinked. Was it just him or was there a teasing tone to Tezuka's voice. He shook his head. Buchou did not tease, therefore, he must have heard wrong. "Yeah. It's boring watching other people play. Unless something interesting happens, like someone gets hurt."

Tezuka closed his eyes. "That sounds like Fuji."

Ryoma shrugged. "Nobody usually gets hurt, though. Except me."

Tezuka noticed the bitterness in the boy's voice.

"Love and hate go both ways Ryoma. You may get hurt the most, but you have the most protection too."

"Was that off the internet, buchou?"

Tezuka almost smiled.


	21. To Be Strong

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **For those of you wondering if there will be any more…um…abuse to Ryoma, considering that that was the main plot of the fic, there _will_ be a climax coming soon. GAAH, I'm sorry for the long wait. At least – at least it's another 3000 word chapter, right? Haha, I told you no more 1000 word chapters are going to come! Although I did update faster before…but my main reason was school. Midterms are coming soon and everything is hellish. So, yeah, finally got time to update. Please feel free to drop a review! I work really hard on these chapters.

**Warnings:** Weekly-ish updates. OOC big time on Rinko.

* * *

After a long afternoon practicing tennis, Tezuka dismissed everyone to head on home. The regulars all moaned and groaned as they wobbled past him, complains about 'I can't feel my legs' and 'buchou was really harsh today' flittered around as they disappeared around the bend. The captain himself admitted he had been a little rough today; commanding laps like there was no tomorrow – maybe the worry and stress about their youngest kohai was taking toll on him even though he hadn't realized it.

"Ryoma, do you need me to walk you home?" the captain offered as he watched Ryoma silently stand up and sling his tennis bag over his shoulder.

"I'm okay. You've never walked me home before, anyway. Why the sudden question?"

Gold eyes bore into brown ones, challenging. Tezuka immediately realized that Ryoma didn't want to be babied, or pitied – he wanted everything to resume normally.

"Just asking." Tezuka replied briskly. "Remember, we're meeting at my house at six. Remind your father, okay?"

Ryoma nodded in agreement. As he turned around to leave the courts, he felt a strong hand ruffle his hair and pull him into a headlock. Instinctively, Ryoma flinched and pulled away, stumbling backwards. Momoshiro stared at him with wide eyes.

"I was just-" Momoshiro began in explanation.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, I don't…" Ryoma didn't know what he was saying. He hadn't meant to flinch at his friend's touch. He took a deep breath. He didn't want his mother's abuse to have this effect on him – he knew how many children who were abused ended up being scared and weak of everything.

_Take a deep breath. You will NOT flinch over people touching you. You. Will. Not._

After drilling this into his brain, Ryoma casually asked, "What's up, Momo-senpai?"

Momoshiro still seemed a little baffled at the way Ryoma had reacted, but the boy seemed fine now – so…there was nothing to worry about, right? "I was just wondering, you wanna go for burgers again? We didn't go yesterday either."

Ryoma shook his head. "Sorry, but I have…" he glanced at Tezuka before looking at Momoshiro again. "I'm busy. Oyaji wants me home early."

Momoshiro looked disappointed. "Fine. I'll see you later…I guess."

"Bye, Momo-senpai."

The moment Momoshiro disappeared out of the courts; Ryoma glanced back up at Tezuka. They both stared at each other. Everybody else had already left the courts and only the two of them remained. Ryoma was the first to look away, shuffling his feet. "Bye…buchou. I'll see you tonight, I guess."

Tezuka nodded.

He watched as Ryoma turned around and started to walk away, confidence in his steps even after everything he had been through. The air was breezy and blew his mop of black hair around and Tezuka could see the contractions of his muscles as he took each step. The older boy's heart pounded furiously in his chest and before he could stop himself, he called out:

"Ryoma, wait!"

Ryoma stopped and looked over his shoulder. Tezuka strode over to him in three quick strides and swiftly turned him around. They locked eyes.

"What?" Ryoma asked, tilting his chin up, fire in his eyes.

"I just…" the captain, for once, seemed to be at a loss of words. There was a moment of silence.

"You're strong." He finally said. "Remember that, okay?"

The slender figure nodded, confused. "I – I know."

There was an awkward pause.

"Well, bye buchou."

Tezuka didn't reply as Ryoma hurriedly disappeared out of the courts, tennis bag flopping from side to side along with him.

* * *

When Ryoma got home, he immediately scanned the room for his mother. She would normally be at work at this time, but he just wanted to be sure. He didn't see her. He did, however, see Nanako-san at the kitchen table, books sprawled out as she studied for an exam.

Nanako smiled. "Ryoma, how was your day?"

"Fine."

The reply was curt and it clearly voiced that he didn't want any questions. Nanako still looked a little worried about Ryoma but she knew he wanted everyone to back off so she didn't say anything. She clicked her pen open and started to continue writing her essay, much to his relief.

Ryoma dropped his backpack onto the ground and looked around. "Where's oyaji-"

"Ah, seishounen! You're home." Nanjiroh came barrelling into the living room, a smirk on his lips. A rolled up magazine fitted his right fist. "So, how was school? Did any one question your bruises? Did you tell them you got gang-beat?"

A long glare. "If you didn't make me go to school in the _first_ plac-"

"School is necessary." Nanjiroh said, a twinkle in his eye. "Anyway, we're meeting with your little tennis friends at six, so you better eat and get showered."

"What are you, my mother?" Ryoma drawled.

Nanjiroh blinked. "No, I'm your father."

Rolling his eyes, Ryoma climbed up the stairwell and into his bedroom. After taking a quick shower and changing into fresh clothes, he went back downstairs just in time to smell something delicious cooking in the kitchen. Following his nose, he strode right in.

"Ah, what's for dinne-" Ryoma opened and eye and his words froze mid-sentence. He swallowed and took a step backwards.

Rinko stood at the stove with her apron on, mitted gloves covering her hands. Her hair was tied in ponytail that dragged down like limp spaghetti and her shoulders hunched over like she could barely support herself. _Kaa-san looks really tired…_ the boy thought. He couldn't help but feel scared, sorry, and angry at his mother. Scared for the sake of his life, sorry because she was obviously pushing herself to exhaustion, and angry because mothers weren't supposed to go around beating up their sons.

Before he could react, however, he realized Nanako was helping Rinko at the sink. He sighed in relief and slid into an empty chair.

"Ryoma-san." Nanako smiled cheerfully. Rinko tensed at the name but didn't turn around.

Ryoma nodded to his cousin and stared at his empty plate. Even though Nanako was there, he still felt anxious and gripped the end of the chair tightly. Meanwhile, Rinko tried to control herself from beating up Ryoma right then and there in front of Nanako. She hated how everybody acted like he was a god or something – _everyone. _Nanjiroh always paid more attention to him than he ever did to her, Nanako seemed to light up whenever Ryoma came home from school, his tennis teammates obviously adored him, heck, even Karupin liked him the most.

Still in her thoughts, Rinko nearly slammed the plate in front of Ryoma. The boy jumped slightly in surprise.

"Dinner." She said. Her teeth shone like ice. "_Enjoy_, Ryoma."

For a moment, Ryoma felt cold all over. Rinko's tone was so wild and harsh, and her eyes held nothing but hate in them. _It was so hard. _Ryoma still found it difficult to adjust to everything that was happening – things had spun out of control so quickly, and now it felt like there would never be another day where he could just walk to the tennis courts to meet his senpai-tachi, without a care in the world, not a single worry about what was going to happen when he got home that night.

Ryoma took a bite out of his food. _At least I have buchou. He's so nice to me lately. Probably 'cause of what happened, but still – I've never felt closer to him then I do now. Even on the tennis courts, when we're focused on nothing but each other and the passing of the ball smacking between us, he never looks at me with the same eyes as he does now. _

_Before, it was always respect and pride. _

_But now there was something different in his eyes. He looked at me with…dare I say love? Not attraction or anything, just care and pure love. _

_But maybe I'm judging things wrong. _

_After all…I thought my mother loved me too…_

Ryoma was suddenly aware that Nanako had left the kitchen. Immediately, a strong fear burned in his lungs. Rinko's eyes twinkled now – not the kind of twinkle his father had when he was proud of Ryoma's tennis improvement, and definitely not the kind of twinkle Momoshiro's violet eyes perpetually held – a twinkle of cruel delight.

It almost reminded him of Fuji, but Fuji was different. Fuji didn't hurt people.

"Ryoma, you've barely ate." Rinko said, voice calm. It was the kind of calm that made Ryoma's stomach churn in anxious anticipation of something he dreaded. Her fingers slid through her hair slowly, but she kept her eyes on Ryoma's the entire time, her lips curled the slightest. "Your food will get cold if you don't hurry."

Ryoma felt hot all of a sudden. Like he was going to pass out. What was this overwhelming fear that had taken over him? Since when had he gotten so scared?

Before he could say a word, Rinko pressed her palm against the table in an angry manner. "Oh, wait, don't tell me, you don't like it, right?"

He started to speak on instinct. "No, I do like it-"

"_Ungrateful._" The simple word was packed with so much emotion. Ryoma's eyes flickered with fear and he felt dizzy. His mother's eyes looked like they had the night before, the moment before she had pushed him against the door and hurt him sixty times. Each swing, each punch, each spiteful word that had came out of her mouth that night suddenly felt so real and present. He started to shake, not subtly anymore, but hard.

The memory of the hot pain that seared his flesh overtook his mind. The feeling had been awful, so awful – just pain after pain after pain, until his body had shut down.

Rinko's voice cut like a knife. "That's what you've always been, you know. A completely _ungrateful _stupid boy who doesn't deserve to live. I should hurt you more, just like yesterday night. As a punishment. I just want you to die from my hands-"

Ryoma tried to talk, his voice weak. "No – I – please, just stop-"

He couldn't finish his words, because right then, at that moment, he threw up all over the kitchen table.

* * *

Nanako walked back into the kitchen and the glass she was holding crashed to the ground. She didn't even look down at the pieces shattered on the floor. Ryoma sat on his chair, trembling, vomit dripping off the table. Rinko just twisted the napkin in her hand and stared at him with emotionless eyes.

_What are you doing? Your son just threw up and you're just standing there like nothing happened…_Nanako felt a sudden rush of anger, but she didn't dare say any of the things she was thinking. Rinko was an elder and it would have been very disrespectful to accuse her like that.

"Ryoma-san," Nanako said in the most soothing tone she could. She quickly went beside the boy and turned him around. She was shocked to feel how hot he was, and how much he was shaking, but even more shocked to see his eyes wet with tears that had yet to fall. "Oh, poor Ryoma-san…it's okay. It was just an accident anyway. You must be feeling sick."

Ryoma could barely comprehend what his cousin was saying. _Sick, _he thought, _sick with fear._

"It's okay." Nanko started to get up, saying she would get a glass of water for him, but Ryoma clutched her arm tightly. He couldn't let her leave, not even for a second. Not with Rinko there, her piercing eyes a little nervous now but still horribly cold. "Stay," Ryoma whispered. Nanako felt like her heart was going to break into pieces – what had happened to Ryoma?

She couldn't handle this right now. At the top of her lungs, she yelled, "Uncle, get down here!"

Ryoma's mind spun and he barely heard Nanjiroh's footsteps. Random thoughts flashed through his brain, some making him twist, others letting him breathe.

_How can I do that though? He's our kohai. It's our job to protect him if someone's harming him._

_If they ask, tell them it's none of their business._

_No, she won't stop. You're just too innocent to see that._

_Who hurt our baby boy?_

Ryoma started to throw up again. Everything felt like fear.

_You're…strong._

The blur in front of him transformed for a moment, but it quickly crashed down.

…_I just want you to die from my hands…_

"Ryoma, Ryoma, calm down…you're okay…" Nanjiroh was freaking out. Ryoma – _his _little boy was shaking and throwing up and on the verge of hyperventilating. He tried his best to speak and get through to him but the kid seemed to be in a different world. Nanako stood clueless, tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

The worst part was Rinko – she didn't even seem to _care_. Nanjiroh wanted to shake her and knock some sense into her, but he knew he had to focus on Ryoma right now. "Look, Ryoma, you're just _sick. _Did you eat something funny at school? You're burning up. Maybe you've got a fever."

_You don't understand, _Ryoma thought. _I'm not sick. I don't have a fever. I'm __scared._

"Ryoma…kiddo…" Nanjiroh's voice sounded faraway. Ryoma took a long gulp of air and closed his eyes. His head pounded like an axe was beating against it. He kept thinking it would be over - the fear, the pain, the hurt. Everything time, he thought it was the last time he would be upset. At Tezuka's bed, crying – he thought that would be it. Up on the roof, too. But it felt like it would never end anymore. When everything had first happened, so quickly, so fast, he hadn't expected it to have this effect on him.

He was Ryoma – strong, unbreakable.

When he saw news casts about kids being abused, he had obviously felt bad, but he'd always thought that they should have been stronger. If they'd just told someone right away, and maybe tried to stand up for themselves instead of acting so weak, they wouldn't be in that situation. _It's hard, _Ryoma pressed his face against his father's shoulder, his heartbeat starting to slow down. _When you're actually in that position…._

_Don't think. _

Ryoma felt his father pull him into an embrace.

_Just don't think about anything. _

Nanako handed him a glass of water. He took a sip with much reluctance.

_Think. Think about…_

…_..You're strong._

Maybe it was a good think Tezuka had said that before he left.

_You're strong._

_You're strong. _

_You're strong. _

…

_Remember that…okay? _

And with that thought echoeing through his head, he let himself be lulled to sleep.

_I will._

* * *

Nanjiroh really didn't want to leave his son home. He stared at Ryoma's sleeping figure and bit his lip, considering if he should cancel meeting with Fuji and Tezuka. But no – that was one thing he just _couldn't _do at this point. Everything was going too far. Ryoma was in too much pain, and Nanjiroh wanted to know exactly what was causing the pain.

Even though he was almost sure it was Rinko, he still couldn't make himself accuse her unjustly. He knew he was blinded from the time years back when he had fallen in love with the beautiful, smiling girl, and it was hard to break out from that.

_I'll find out today. Finally. _

Nanjiroh was comforted by the fact that Nanako would be home. As long as someone was in the house, Rinko wouldn't dare hurt Ryoma. If it was Rinko, anyway. With this little sense of assurance, Nanjiroh bent down and shook Ryoma's shoulders. It took a moment for the boy to open his eyes and groggily manage to adjust to the light.

"Oyaji?" he asked.

"Don't worry kid, you can go back to sleep in a minute. Just tellin' you I'll be off your friend's house so we can…discuss…the issues at hand."

"I…need to come."

Nanjiroh knew this was coming. He gently pushed Ryoma back down onto the couch. "You're sick. You threw up. Geez, you need to _sleep_, not deal with more stress."

"But…can't we do it later then?"

"I want to know what's happening, and since you won't tell me, I'm going to have to go today." Nanjiroh's voice was stern but upon seeing Ryoma's crestfallen expression, his eyes softened. "You know, you're not gunna be alone. Nanako-san will be in the house too."

Ryoma's eyes widened. How did his father know he was worried about Rinko? "I'm…why would I be worried about being alone? And of course I'm not going to be alone. Nanako-san and k-kaa-san will _both _be in the house, so how come you didn't say kaa-san's nam-"

Nanjiroh smiled painfully. "Forget it. I just wanted to let you know. You should continue resting."

The boy blinked as his father got up, waved behind his head, and disappeared out of the front door. He wanted to argue – _don't go, don't leave me alone with this witch. Nanako-san can't do anything, she's only in college. _But he didn't, because then he would know, and for some reason, that fact was worse than everything that had happened. Ugh, he was so incredibly tired of all this overcomplicated thinking. Life was simple. Life was _supposed to be simple. __His_ life was simple. Ryoma took an angry breath, annoyed at how much everything was controlling him.

_You know what…_

In what felt like a long time, Ryoma thought of something that sounded like his normal self.

_What. The. Hell. _

And with that, he fell back onto the couch with a thud.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! _**Ugh, I totally thought I was writing like a writing goddess and then I read it over and I'm like...Omigod, this totally sucks. I mean, I'm not TRYING to fish for compliments or anything. I swear I'm not. I hate when people say that, because I'm just being truthful. I feel like the pacing was awkward and I got too dramatic. Sigh. Well, I guess mistakes are a part of learning. And so I'm sorry if it's a disappointment. Next chapter is climax, so I hope I can pull it off.**


	22. To Die

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Guess who's stuck in bed with Pneumonia? Ah, lovely winter, bringing fun flues for everyone to suffer with right before their midterm exams when _everything _is pretty much due. Anyway, Shadowhawk pretty much guessed the entire climax scene, which means I'm pretty predictable, but oh well. xDD I mean seriously though, from Nanako going to and leaving and everything LOL.

**Warnings:** Weekly-ish updates. OOC big time on Rinko

* * *

"Gah, you better have some good stuff to tell."

This was the first thing Nanjiroh said when he stepped into the Tezuka residence. Last time, he had been too frazzled by the sight of his son to really notice his surroundings. The house had a warm, welcoming feeling, the kind of place you would expect to have cluttered books and warm pies from apron-smiling mothers.

Tezuka, dressed in a pair of sweatpants, tried to look past Nanjiroh. "Where's Ryoma?"

"He wasn't feeling very well, throwin' up and all, so I decided he should stay home and rest."

There was a moment of very quick, very harsh panic in Tezuka's eyes. His heard thudded against his chest and he tried to calm down, but images flashed in his vision that he didn't want to see. Ryoma left alone, at his house, with his mother, was possibly the worst thing that could have happened. She could do _anything. _

Poison him, drown him in a bathtub, try to hang him by his neck-

"Are you okay?" Nanjiroh asked suspiciously. "You look like you're going to pass out."

Tezuka pressed his hand to his chest. The ringing of his heart was so loud now, it buzzed in his ears and he wished it would stop. He wasn't used to feeling anxious, or frenzied. He was supposed to be in control, for goodness sake. The teen straightened up and took a deep breath. Maybe Ryoma's mother was working an extra shift and wasn't even home at the moment.

"You left him alone?" Tezuka asked carefully.

Nanjiroh raised an eyebrow. "With his mother, and his cousin."

That provided some relief to Tezuka. If Nanako was there, at least Ryoma's mother couldn't do anything too drastic. And even if she could, Tezuka decided, Ryoma was strong. He could leap out the window and make a run for it if he needed to.

"Well, come right inside." Tezuka gestured towards the kitchen table. "Fuji's there too."

Nanjiroh followed the younger boy to the kitchen, and frowned at the sight of the perpetually-smiling tensai sitting promptly in front of him, legs crossed and arms folded neatly in his lap. Something about him gave off a creepy vibe, but Nanjiroh ignored it. He'd played enough weirdoes' in the tennis world to be able to deal.

"Hi, Nanjiroh-san." Fuji greeted. He sipped from a cup of hot chocolate.

"Yeah, yeah." Nanjiroh rolled his eyes and slid into an empty chair. "So, you both apparently know what happened to my son?"

Tezuka caught the faintest urgency in the older man's tone. "Well, I guess it's best to go straight out and say it."

"Saa…maybe you're right Tezuka. Let's not beat around the bush."

"We could have done this over the phone." Nanjiroh muttered with a sigh, appearing not to be interested. This was obviously the understatement of the year, since in reality he was just dying to understand what was happening, and to confirm his suspicions – if he could just _confirm _them-

"Tell me." Nanjiroh said, and this time, his eyes were serious.

Tezuka's brown eyes softened against the evening sunlight, and he leaned back against the chair. "Echizen told me. He told me that his mother was hurting him."

Nanjiroh felt his breath leave him. He'd expected it – he'd _saw _it coming. He _knew _all along it was Rinko, but it was still such a shock. For a moment, he thought maybe they were kidding – which was a stupid thought, but that's how he felt. But Tezuka simply kept his gaze steady, his lips pursed in a thin line. Beside him, Fuji nodded subtly.

Just – _Rinko. _Nanjiroh tried to wrap his mind around this, but no matter how many times he tried to see her, all he saw was her young, cheerful face twenty years back. Of all people, a few months back, the last person he would have guessed would have been Rinko. She had always been such a perfect mother. Sure, she was quite busy, but she never failed to support Ryoma when he needed it.

_What happened? _

Nanjiroh was afraid to think.

_She got ugly on the inside._

"Nanjiroh-san, are you alright?" Tezuka asked, lips bent in a frown.

Nanjiroh stood up abruptly. "Yes – I – I just need some fresh air."

* * *

Ryoma lifted an eye and blinked wearily. He felt a lot better than he had earlier but his body still ached and left him drained. With a grunt, he pushed himself into a sitting position and scanned the room. Nanako hummed softly on the recliner next to him, a book open in her lap. He could hear the water running in the kitchen and deducted his mother was there – _okay, so getting a snack is out of the question._

He was kind of hungry though. Ryoma sighed as his stomach made a soft gurgling noise. He slumped back against the couch and wrapped the blankets up to his chin. "Ah, Nanako-san…would it be okay if you got me a snack?"

Nanako looked up in surprise, almost dropping her book. For a moment, she was tense. "Ryoma-san, you're awake…"

"Hm. Hungry, too."

"_Oh,_ right." Nanako closed her book with a thud and hastily got to her feet. She slipped on her home shoes and tousled back her hair, putting on her brightest smile. Ryoma wanted to glare at her – why was she acting so nervous around him? Because of his bruises? How he'd acted earlier?_ Get yourself together, I'm not some weakling. I'm not._

"What would you like, Ryoma-san?" Nanako had already disappeared to the kitchen, her voice faraway.

Ryoma didn't reply, figured it didn't matter. He snuggled up against the blankets and fought the urge to make everything disappear. He wanted Tezuka – god, yes, he wanted Tezuka. The captain's strong demeanour, concrete voice, unusually warm eyes when he wanted them to be – Ryoma wanted all of that right now, instead of being trapped in this house with the one woman he feared the most.

He considered getting off the couch and walking over to barge in on their 'meeting' about him. He glanced at the clock – his father probably knew by now. His stomach suddenly felt queasy. He didn't want to think about everything that was going to happen next; the chaos, the commotion. What if they thought he needed therapy like all the other kids who had been abused?

_They better not try to make me do that kind of stuff. I'll bite the therapist. _

"Here's some freshly cut fruit." Nanako breezed back into the room, gently lay the plate on the table in front of him, and swept back into her spot by the couch. _Too happy, too tense_. Ryoma could see, behind her smile and flawlessness, that her fingers were shaking when she flipped open to the page in her book.

He turned his attention back to the fruit. He wasn't even hungry anymore. Too anxious about what was going to happen when his father came home – the fighting, the police. Ryoma screwed his eyes shut and flopped back against the couch, fingers clenching and unclenching. _I just wish everything could go back to normal. I just want to sleep and play tennis, not deal with any of this anymore. Why is it so hard to block everything out?_

He took a tentative bite out of the nectarine. He barely tasted it.

_I just wish-_

Nanako closed her book and sharply stood up. "Phew, it's so hot in here. Everyone's in such a mood, don't you think?"

Ryoma stared at her. _You're in a mood, _he wanted to tell her. He was pretty much just annoyed with everything right now, along with the fact that his life was hell and was about to become even worse in a mere few hours.

"I think I need to get out a little." Nanako said. She seemed tired. "I'm going to go take a walk."

It was then that Ryoma snapped to attention. His heart nearly froze in his chest, and again, the dizzying feeling of panic took over. Hot, he felt hot again. Nanako couldn't leave – she just _couldn't. _Then his mother could do anything – she could throw him across the room, break a vase on his head, and nobody would be the wiser. _You can't go. You can't go. _

He tried to will his cousin to change her mind as she slipped on her jacket and went to the front door.

_You can't go._

Ryoma opened his mouth to tell her to stay. But not a single word came out, and his voice stayed stuck in his throat until the door clicked shut behind her.

_Doomed, _Ryoma thought shakily. His felt like he would throw up again, all over the fresh fruit.

_I'm so doomed._

* * *

Nanjiroh couldn't really clear his head, no matter how nice the fresh air felt against his skin and hair. He'd lightly taken a step out of Tezuka's household, steadying himself with the railing, tempted to take a long walk down the sidewalk. It was still so deliriously _dumb_ to think that Rinko would be hurting their child like that – all those bruises…was she even _capable_ of that much damage?

The retired tennis pro licked his lips. He didn't know why it hurt to believe it – he'd know, he'd braced himself for it – but the blow was still hard. His own wife, to be a child abuser – a woman he loved, _married, _and raised a son with.

His son – Nanjiroh stopped in his tracks. For a long time, all he could think was, _Ryoma is so brave._ The boy must have been under so much sorrow and misery, yet he held it out like everything was fine. He managed to make everyone believe he was fine too. _If it hurts this much for me to find out that Rinko abused Ryoma, che, the poor kid probably wanted to cry when it first happened to him. He should have just said something._

"Nanjiroh-san, going on a walk?" Fuji stepped off the porch. His blue eyes were wide open, piercing out like a deep, vast ocean that oversaw everything. "Mind if Tezuka and I join you?"

Tezuka appeared beside Fuji, the slightest ruffle in his brown hair from the wind. "Yes, perhaps it would be a good idea to consider what steps to take next? Ry- Echizen refuses to tell the police. He told me he won't let me."

"He's so stubborn." Fuji said, a small smile on his face. "But it's kind of sad, to think, he would still want to protect his mother."

Nanjiroh felt a sudden rush of anger. Despite all the pain that came with learning about Rinko's abusive behaviour, the replacement of revenge quickly overtook it. The woman had hurt his _son _– his pride and joy, the reason why he'd quit tennis. To let Ryoma shine and teach him how to reach his dreams. That's all he ever wanted, and something tragic like this wasn't going to stop anything.

"We'll be handing her to the court." Nanjiroh said, voice low. "They'll decide what to do with her. And I don't care if Ryoma says no, because this is all for his well-being."

Tezuka turned a crisp corner. "Well, let's discuss this further."

Fuji resisted rolling his eyes. _Adult, _the sadist thought, _he's a freaking adult._

* * *

It didn't take long for Rinko to come into the living room. She had a plate of freshly cut oranges in front of her, all sliced and arranged into neat pieces. Her entire face lit with an eerie smile – something that couldn't quite be named, but radiated cruelty.

"Oranges, for my dear son." She sang. Her tone was airy but her back was stiffly tense.

Ryoma sat on the couch with his fingers gripping his knees. He tried to breathe – that's all he told himself in his mind. _Breathe Ryoma, Breathe. Don't throw up again. Don't pass out. Just breathe. One breath at a time. _It wasn't enough. He wasn't breathing – he was taking in long gulps of air, swallowing, trying not to faint from how hot the room was getting. Everything seemed to pressing in on him – was the room shrinking? The walls seemed to be closing in. His mother seemed closer to him now, her hair sticking everywhere as her brown eyes bore deeply into his.

Ryoma shivered hard. _Take a deep breath. Take a deep breath._

He felt like throwing up for the umpteenth time. His stomach twisted into funny knots, and he clutched at it. Fear – everything, every moment was fear. He felt like he couldn't breathe, the fear had restricted him that tightly, bound and weaved him until all he could feel was the agony of waiting for the first hit. Or the first string of words.

"Oranges, Ryoma." Rinko repeated. She held the plate out expectantly. "Try some."

_Just breathe. _

Ryoma couldn't stop trembling. His head felt dizzy. This wasn't right – how could he be so scared that he felt sick? His mother's hand was steady as she held the plate out, as were her words, but all Ryoma had to do was look at her eyes and he would feel cold and hot all over. They were frantically wild eyes, waiting to do something horrible.

"Why won't you eat it?" Slowly, Rinko's smile turned into a frown. "You're being ungrateful again."

Ryoma immediately started to quaver. "No, I'll ea-eat…" he reached his hand out, because maybe if he took a bite of the orange, she would back off. Maybe if he just ate the orange, everything would be okay. But before he could, she snatched the plate to her chest.

"Not now, you brat." Something in the air had shifted. Rinko dropped the plate, and Ryoma covered his ears as it made an ear-shattering noise. The pieces scattered all across the floor, lone slices of oranges randomly thrown about. Ryoma stared at the knife that had skidded off the plate. His heart thumped like an alarm clock in his ear, not stopping. _Thump, thump, thump. _So loud, he could hear his heartbeat so clearly – and the knife. He couldn't stop staring at the knife.

"You know, you've been doing so many things lately." Rinko's voice twisted. "Everything you do is a nuisance. You come in the way of _everything._"

_Not the words. They hurt more than the hits._

"Your _father _loved me _first. _We had so much together, so much memories, so many good times – I didn't even want a baby, you know, but he insisted, and it was so dumb…because you took over his life, you know? All he did was coo at how you were going to be the best tennis player in the world, a challenge for him – and you know what?"

Rinko was seething. Her eyes were wild, faraway. Scary. "I stopped mattering. I stopped mattering to him. You stupid brat, you took everything away from me." Her voice cracked slightly, and her voice went shrill. "_Stupid boy, just listen to me, you undeserving-"_

Ryoma stayed completely still. His mind was blank with fear – he was numbed with fear. He wondered how he could even understand what she was saying. Every sentence, every word cut his heart and tore it to pieces. He wasn't supposed to believe any of it, none of it, but here in this room, he felt so alone he almost found himself agreeing with her.

"_I just hate you." _

And that's when the first punch came. Ryoma bit his lip hard as his head snapped back, then fell forward. Blood trickled from somewhere – he wasn't sure where. His nose? Eye, maybe? The room was kind of spinning, and he felt disoriented.

"_Ever since you were born, I knew I hated you. I just can't even stand looking at you anymore."_

Ryoma wanted to cry – _shut up. Shut up. _He kept repeating this in his fuzzy state of mind. _Shut up kaa-san, don't say this to me. Shut up. I just can't take it anymore._ She hit him again, hard at the side of his stomach, and he had to stop from screaming in pain. And was he on the floor? How had he ended up on the floor?

Pain, god, the pain. Ryoma tried to get up, putting every muscle he could manage into action.

_Have to get out of here._

Rinko leered back and punched him in the gut. Ryoma went pale as pain seared through his body. _Pain – will I ever be able to feel anything but that again? _He collapsed back on the hardwood floor, trying to regain his breath, trying to move – but he just felt so tired. All his bruises hurt and his body ached from all the blows he'd taken lately.

He wished someone would sweep him away. His mother would torture him if someone didn't.

"_Goddamit, don't just sit there all pathetic."_

Another something – punch? Maybe it was a kick? His stomach burned. He blinked, but black dots filled his vision. He screwed his eyes shut, then opened them. There – he could see again, a little. He could feel blood streaming over his face, cold and oozing. He wondered if he was going to die or something – but his senses were getting overtaken by fear and fatigue.

He didn't know how long he lay there taking hit after hit. At one point, everything flickered away, and blackness clouded his vision. He was still conscious enough, though, to hear what was going around him. Maybe she had hit him so hard he'd gone blind.

"_And for GOD'S SAKE, NEVER LOOK AT ME AGAIN. I'M NOT YOUR MOTHER ANYMORE._"

There was a long silence. Ryoma lay there, chest heaving. He coughed, and saw a bit of red dribble from his mouth. The last words hurt the most – more than the new bruises he'd just gotten, more than the cloudiness that had taken over his vision, more than any of of the pain that he'd received. Was it so much too just want his mother back? The one who made him breakfast in the morning and reminded him to do his homework?

Ryoma waited for more – the next strike, the next words. His heart ached, his body burned. But nothing came.

In the silence, he didn't dare move, only listening to the thin humming of the electricity wires.

And then, he heard the most awful sound. A long wail of defeat as his mother broke down in wracking sobs. That's when Ryoma started crying too.

* * *

"So, we should…I don't know. We should ask Ryoma about this." Tezuka didn't like the decisions Nanjiroh was making – they were snap, on the spot choices. Most of them made sense, but he knew Ryoma would immediately disagree. Nanjiroh was set on in putting Rinko in court, and then into jail, but Tezuka knew Ryoma would never let him without a fight.

"That kid'll give me a headache with his stubbornness." Nanjiroh said, hands behind his head. "Anyway, it's only for the brat's own good."

"The brat?" Tezuka raised an eyebrow.

Nanjiroh glanced at the younger boy's accusing gaze. "What? He doesn't care if I call him that, seriously! And he _is _such a brat. Tch, you should see him at home. He treats me with such disrespect."

Tezuka raised his eyebrow. "You call him a brat." The _I wonder why he treats you with disrespect _was left unspoken.

Fuji walked slightly behind them, taking in the fresh air, enjoying the conversation Nanjiroh and Tezuka were having. Fuji could already tell that the Seigaku captain had taken a distinct disliking to Nanjiroh. There wasn't any strong hate or anything, but he could easily see that Tezuka inwardly cringed every time Nanjiroh called Ryoma a 'brat' or said something childish.

For someone as responsible as Tezuka, seeing Ryoma have such an irresponsible father probably killed him on the inside.

But Fuji knew Nanjiroh meant well, and cared a lot on the inside. He'd already proven that by his sincere affection to his son.

"Geez, he doesn't care if I call him that, I already told you."

"As we already know, Ryoma hides things well. Maybe he does care."

"Che, yeah right! _I_ would know. I'm the brat's father, after all!"

Fuji tilted his head with a smile, and turned his attention the roadside. On the sidewalk, he observed the people, a pastime of his. He liked to creep people out by giving them the stare with his eyes open, and it always amused him to see them flustered and turn away. He narrowed his eyes as he found a pretty girl walking down the sidewalk.

_Ah, a target. _

With a smirk, he flashed his eyes open and gave the girl a hard stare as the passed on opposite sidewalks. Emerging all his willpower, he commanded the girl to turn and look at him. He wasn't physic by any means, but usually his intense stare earned him some control. Sure enough, the girl glanced over and looked overwhelmed to see Fuji's fierce expression.

Uneasy, she averted her eyes.

Fuji smirked, continuing to stare, but something suddenly dawned on him.

_Wait, isn't that…_

Surprise crept over him and he grabbed Nanjiroh's arm. "Isn't that-" Fuji's voice shook. "Isn't that his cousin, Nanako? Over there?"

Both Nanjiroh and Tezuka whipped around, and Nanjiroh's mouth dropped open in surprise. What was Nanako doing, taking a stroll? She was supposed to be back at the house. His heart rate sped up and he tried to think, but all his mind could comprehend was: Ryoma is alone with Rinko. Ryoma is alone with _Rinko. _"She – she was supposed to be at the house!" he said, flustered.

Fuji took a deep breath. "Does Nanako-san _know _about Rinko abusing Ryoma? Does she have any idea at all?"

Nanjiroh's eyes widened as realization set in. "No. No, she doesn't. I didn't think she would leave thoug-"

"Then _of course _she wouldn't care to leave Ryoma home alone." Tezuka snapped.

Both of them looked at him in shock. Tezuka's eyes were angry, and his hands were in fists by his sides. For the first time, in his handsome features, there was panic and worry and a whole blend of emotions that Fuji couldn't quite put his finger on. But they were _open, _free from the walls he normally kept up. "He's alone in there…with her…" his voice wobbled. "We _have _to run to Ryoma's house, _now._"

"Right. Right, let's run." Nanjiroh threw his phone to Fuji. "You stay here. Call 911, tell them to come to our house. Ask Nanako if Rinko was acting weird."

Fuji opened his mouth to reply, but the two males were already running down the streets. Tezuka fought hard to keep up with the previous tennis pro, and he knew it normally would have been harder, but his state of panic had sent him into an adrenaline rush. As his legs pumped faster and faster, the wind a rush in his ear, all he could think was:

_Ryoma, please be okay. I'm coming._

His heart clenched.

_I'm coming._

* * *

Their crying mingled – Ryoma's voice thin, weak, as a storm of tears slid down his face and cheeks. He shivered against the floor, shaking, crying – he wished someone would pick him up and make him warm. He wished he could be a tiny five-year old again. He was too tired to move, simply too exhausted. And he couldn't leave his mother here by herself.

Her sobs were horrible. They sounded like she was in so much distress, in so much pain. She sounded like she'd been holding back such a large amount of hatred for too long.

They were strangled and loud, choked up. Ryoma felt like he was choking himself, thick on tears and blood. His eyes delicately landed on his mother who was slumped against the wall, head in her hands, buried as far as she could. And she cried a lot, heart wrenching cries that sent Ryoma's heart into pain over and over again.

Ryoma tried to cover his ears, but his arms were too weak. He closed his eyes, tried to drown out the sound of the crying – of both his mother's and himself. He tried to envision himself on the court with Tezuka, the crisp noise of the ball bouncing back and forth setting into his brain. _Thwack, thwack, thwack. _Such a steady rhythm, where everything stayed in control. The tennis ball continued to bounce, and for a moment, Ryoma forgot his pain. Tennis was so simple, so beautiful.

Then he realized the crying had stopped.

He lifted his head weakly, almost in a daze. His mother slowly took her head out of her hands and looked up at him, emptiness in her eyes. "Ryoma, I don't think I love you." She whispered, her words trembling as she reached over. Her hand tightened around the knife that lay haphazardly around the ground. Ryoma's blood ran cold, and the constriction of his chest got tighter.

"Kaa-san…" he squeaked.

"Maybe I don't hate you." She stared at the knife, flipped it in her hand. Her voice was soft when she spoke.

"But I'll never be satisfied until I do this."

Ryoma's eyes widened. He tried to get to his feet, quickly, but his body prevented him from doing so. Fear rushed in his ears and he pushed his wrists up with all his strength, forcing himself onto wobbly knees. Each step hurt, but he had to get away, slowly, steady – he could do this. He was aware of Rinko getting up behind him, knife still in her hand, approaching him with delicate movements.

But he couldn't think about that right now. He had to get out of here. His heart thumped in his ears like an engine, and he had to grasp the table beside him when he stumbled.

"Ryoma, where do you think you're going?"

The boy froze as he felt breathe on his neck. She was right behind him, he could feel it. Suddenly, his survival instincts kicked in and he tried to make a run for it, but she was quick. With one sharp tug, she grabbed his wrist and whirled him around.

Ryoma had never seen his mother look so scary before. His voice was stuck in his throat.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time."

Ryoma felt his vision blur again as he was pushed to the ground. He squirmed around; trying to get up, but his eyes faltered him. Struggling for consciousness, Ryoma blinked furiously and looked up. A shudder ran through him – his mother's weight was on top of him as she held a hand to his chest to keep him down.

Right above, clenched tightly in her fingers, was the knife.

Ryoma tried to move, but he was stuck, and everything around him was starting to waver. He could feel death in the air – his own death, so young, and vaguely, he could hear every little dream he'd ever had shattering into pieces. He closed his eyes and prayed silently, for he knew that was all he could do at this point.

_Please, somebody save me. I can't die yet. Get her away from me. Change her mind. Do anything. _

_Tezuka…please. You promised everything would be okay. You __promised__._

_So where are you now?_

When Ryoma opened his eyes, the scene hadn't changed. His mother still held the knife above his chest, eyes wild, a creepy laugh escaping her lips.

"Die," she said, and Ryoma braced himself.

* * *

**What was that? I don't even know what that was. I think I'm kind of getting carried away with this. Anyway, a lot of you are expecting an ending soon…well, like I said, there'll be 27 chapters, so we're getting there! :D I want to thank everyone for their support. Each review means a LOT, a lot a lot a lot, so if I don't reply, that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading!**


	23. To Be Broken

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Last chapter received the most reviews I've ever gotten in my life for one chapter in any of my chaptered stories. I was over the moon happy. Thanks _so _much everybody. I really appreciated it, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Also, I've got my exams out of the way, and a really big break following it. Since my exams ended on Thursday, I get Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday off!

**Warnings:** Weekly-ish updates. OOC big time on Rinko. **This chapter is slightly recapped for dramatic effect.**

* * *

When Ryoma opened his eyes, the scene hadn't changed. His mother still held the knife above his chest, eyes wild, a creepy laugh escaping her lips.

"Die," she said, and Ryoma braced himself.

"Echizen!"

"Seishounen!"

The two males burst in through the living room just as Rinko had pulled the knife back in order to strike. Startled, the sharp utensil clattered from her hands to the hardwood floor. She scrambled off of Ryoma and started to make a run for the front door, but Nanjiroh grabbed her harshly by the shoulders before she could escape.

Ryoma lay there and breathed heavily. His chest rose and fell as he tried to understand what had just happened. He wanted to pass out – that's all he wanted right now. If he could just faint, or black out, maybe all of it would be over when he woke up. _It's already over, _a little part of his mind said. _It'll never be over. She'll always be after you, _the other part said with hopelessness.

He could hear yelling. Loud, extreme yelling. He knew it was his father, trying to shake sense into Rinko. Like Rinko actually had hope. Ryoma knew she was going straight to jail as soon as this was all over. _Jail. _Ryoma's buzzed mind tried to comprehend this. _No mother. I'll have no mother…but did I even have one in the first place?_

Ryoma was so tired. He closed his eyes and willed his body to give up, just so he could relax. He wished, at times like this, that he wasn't so strong. _Pass out, _he urged himself. _Just pass out. _

"Ryoma…" A familiar voice said. Ryoma kept his eyes shut. _Pass out. I want to pass out. _He felt two warm arms gather him into a hug, but the boy was too weak to understand what was going on. He could feel heat radiating from the person's chest, and buried his face for warmth. "It'll be fine Ryoma. I'm here." The voice seemed quieter now, and Ryoma wondered if it was because the person was speaking quieter or if he was fading into unconsciousness.

"Don't worry, it's just me." The voice said. Ryoma's mind snapped. _B-buchou? _The twelve-year old didn't say anything as the embrace around him tightened. He wished he could be happy that his captain was here, but he didn't feel the slightest bit of joy. All he felt was pain – all over his body, and cracking into his heart. _Will I ever be happy again? _He doubted it. He doubted anything would ever be the same. His life would be hell from then on – he was just sure of it.

Ryoma felt himself being lifted off the ground. He didn't care, didn't even try to protest. He still wondered how he was conscious. He'd been through so much – shouldn't he have fainted by now? _Am I that strong?_

"I know everything seems hopeless right now…" Tezuka's voice was hesitant. Ryoma gripped his shirt tightly. "…but things will be okay."

Ryoma still kept his eyes closed. He could hear Tezuka footsteps and heard the front door creak open. The loud yelling of his mother and father disappeared and was replaced by the sound of police sirens. Ryoma cautiously opened his eyes and immediately felt dizzy. From that split second, he saw his front yard and a mill of police officers. Ryoma looked away from all the havoc and chaos, and instead turned his attention towards the sunset.

Brilliant pink and oranges contrasted together. "Buchou…" Ryoma spoke, and his voice sounded faraway even to himself. He tugged at the sleeve of his captain. "Look, over there…"

"Huh?" Tezuka tilted his head.

"The sunset. It's the sunset."

There was a moment of silence.

"Ryoma…"

And Ryoma started to cry again.

* * *

Tezuka held the small bundle in his arms as Ryoma cried. The boy's entire body shook with each wracking sob that he emitted. The older boy had wrapped a spare blanket around Ryoma as they sat on the front porch and waited for everything to be sorted. It wasn't the kind of crying that he'd done back at Tezuka's house, or up on the roof. Tezuka found that it was painstakingly hollow and broken – almost like if Ryoma _didn't _cry, he wouldn't be able to handle living with himself.

"Hey, Ryoma, it's alright." Tezuka pressed his chin against Ryoma's hair.

Ryoma gasped for air. "No – it's - not."

Tezuka's heart ached as Ryoma continued to cry. He looked so pale and thin. He knew Ryoma had been eating, but he guessed the stress of everything had caused him to lessen his diet. Along with all his new bruises and injuries, only broken could define the boy. But Tezuka held him tightly, not delicately, because he wanted to prove that Ryoma still had the spark he always did.

It had simply disappeared for a while.

Tezuka looked beyond the boy's figure and towards the police officers. Nanjiroh was talking rapidly to try to sum up what had happened, while Rinko was being held back in hand cuffs by two police officers. She was screaming and crying and trying to say something, but Tezuka didn't feel the slightest pity. Not even the slightest.

He hoped Ryoma was too distressed to hear his mother's piercing screams. "Echize- Ryoma…c'mon, stop crying. You're shaking hard."

Ryoma tried to make himself as small as possible and cried into his knees, hoping to muffle the sound. Tezuka didn't know how to comfort him at this point – he hoped that the boy knew he was there for him, because sometimes, that little support was all that mattered. "Shhh…hey…look, Fuji has some hot chocolate. Do you want some?"

Fuji stood off to the side with a two cups of hot chocolate in his hands. He never felt such sharp hatred towards someone as he did for that _woman. _He silently brooded over what had happened, although he kept his smile on his face for Ryoma's sake. "Yeah, Echizen…" Fuji gestured helpfully. "Want a hot chocolate? I brought it especially for you."

Ryoma stiffened in Tezuka's arms, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. "Yes." He said in a small voice. "I want some."

Tezuka was still stunned to see how vulnerable Ryoma had become. It wasn't the boy's fault the slightest – anyone would be scared after what had just happened. It was hard to comprehend, but Tezuka was still shocked when he thought about the cold hard truth. _Ryoma nearly got murdered today. __Murdered._

Fuji handed the steaming cup of hot chocolate to Tezuka. Tezuka glanced down at Ryoma's small frame.

"Alright, can you hold the cup? Are your wrists fine?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes," Ryoma snapped. Tezuka was startled, but relieved. _He's still there. Ryoma's still in there somewhere. Thank god, he'll be fine._ The boy received the hot drink into his hands. His fingers trembled madly and he was grateful when Tezuka covered his own hands overtop his to steady him. Carefully, he lifted the cup and took a sip.

The heat and sweetness melted on his tongue and he relaxed into Tezuka's hold.

Fuji observed with a more real smile this time. They were so cute together. Still, worry gnawed at the tensai's stomach. Ryoma' face was tear-streaked and blotchy from crying, but the worst part was his eyes. They seemed so empty, hopeless. The spark had completely disappeared.

"I didn't do _anything wrong!_" Rinko screamed hysterically as the police led her into the car.

Ryoma's head snapped up.

"I _didn't. _He's the one who should go in jail, not me. He's the one who was being a bad son!" She sobbed, her hair hanging over her face limply. Her entire face was pained and sunken. "Why am _I_ the one going to jail instead of _him_?"

Ryoma started to shake again, and Tezuka pressed the boy close to his chest. "Ignore her. Ignore everything she says," he said strongly. He knew Ryoma wasn't listening – he was still watching his mother, eyes clouded over with tears. "She…she shouldn't go to jail…" Ryoma half-murmured, still watching the scene.

Tezuka's heart clenched. Why couldn't he see that Rinko deserved it? Why couldn't he see that he _didn't _deserve this?

"I just wanted my husband to _myself!_" Rinko's voice spiralled into the night air. "_Is that so wrong?_"

Ryoma shuddered, but he kept his eyes on his mother the entire time. As if feeling his gaze, Rinko's head jerked towards him. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, everyone felt like they were holding their breath. Ryoma stared into his mother's deep coffee eyes, looking for some sign of regret, guilt…anything. But there was still only pure hatred.

His eyes hardened. "Buchou…she better go to jail."

Tezuka could cry from relief.

* * *

Once the entire commotion had died down, the policemen wanted to ask Ryoma questions. Both Tezuka, Nanjiroh, and Fuji jumped to his defense and said Ryoma was too traumatized to answer things at the moment. They weren't sure if it was true or not, but they did know the last thing Ryoma wanted to do right now was sit and get interrogated.

Nanjiroh ran his fingers through Ryoma's hair as the boy cuddled in Tezuka's arms. "Are you okay, kid?"

Ryoma looked up. His eyes were still empty. "Can I be okay after this? Is it even possible?" The words had no emotion behind them – they droned, almost like a robot. Tezuka was starting to panic again – at times, it seemed Ryoma regained a bit of himself, but other times he seemed like he was lost in another world. He didn't even seem to be present with them.

Fuji answered, "Of course you can. Things like this happen to people all around the world, and they're okay, aren't they?"

Ryoma was silent for a moment. He turned his head and buried it in Tezuka's shoulder. He honestly didn't know what he would do without the captain – his body and his mind felt so weak, like he would crumble without the support of Tezuka holding him up. His captain, his buchou, Tezuka – his fingers clutched around the older boy's shirt. "Thank you," he whispered. He hadn't meant for Tezuka to hear, but the small smile that etched onto the captain's face said he had.

Nanjiroh felt warmed at the scene. "Tezuka-san…would you mind letting Ryoma stay at your place for a while? I don't know if he wants to go back to the house where he nearly got- never mind, we all know what happened. Besides, he seems comfortable around you, so maybe it's best he stays at your place for a few days."

"Of course." Tezuka said. He ruffled Ryoma's hair, and the boy leaned into the touch. "Anything for Ryoma."

Fuji smirked.

If they weren't in the middle of a traumatic event, he really would have teased the two. Really, he would have. And he'd have watched Tezuka avert his eyes away, and Ryoma's cheeks turn an interesting shade of pink. A frown crept on to Fuji's face. Unfortunately, the incidents that had happened tonight were real and there.

There was no 'what if' none of this happened. It had happened, to Seigaku's very own baby boy, and there was nothing they could do about it.

"Will he be okay?" Fuji asked.

Tezuka rocked Ryoma in his arms slightly. The exhaustion of the day had finally settled and Ryoma was starting to fall asleep. "Okay?"

There was confidence in Tezuka's voice.

"He'll be more than okay."

* * *

**The chapter didn't end that great, but oh well. xDDD I know it was shorter than my last two chapters, but I'm simply writing chapters based on what seems like a complete event. There are only…what…four more chapters I think? I'm going to try to finish this story between the break in between semesters. I hope this chapter was satisfactory. I wasn't completely satisfied but I didn't know **_**what **_**I wasn't satisfied with, so I just posted it. **

**Thanks for all your reviews! :D Always appreciated.**


	24. To Recover

** Crumbling**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **So, this whole time I've been saying there will be 27 chapters. My mistake, I checked back on my outline and it's actually _26_ chapters. My apologies! Anyway, I'm still hesitant on how to end this story. I'm afraid it'll turn out bad, but at this point, I guess I'm just going to have to give it a shot and see what happens. Thanks for all the reviews! Always appreciated!

**Warnings:** Weekly-ish updates. OOC big time on Rinko. **Lots of Pillar fluff…Actually, I think I'm making Ryoma heal too quickly…but oh well, blame it on Ryoma being strong and Tezuka being such a great guardian/secret lover hehe…but, really, I'm sorry it's not angsty enough. I'm sure he would be in more pain in real life…but…somehow…I couldn't help write pillar fluff and stuff…and I got carried away…sighs…oh well.**

* * *

In the next few days, Ryoma became a robot.

That's what Tezuka assumed anyway. It frightened him, because the boy was acting more emotionless than the captain _himself. _The older boy stood in front of Ryoma's room (the guest room in the Kunimitsu Residence) with a fisted hand hesitant to knock. After the horrible encounter, Rinko had been submitted to court. She wouldn't admit what she did was wrong, or that she did it, but there was enough evidence that it was nearly 90% sure that she would be sent to jail. The decision wasn't final though and Nanjiroh was zapped back and forth from the court to paperwork.

Once everything had been cleared, they had taken Ryoma to the hospital in case anything was broken. The doctor there had said that Ryoma was lucky that Rinko generally aimed for the face and stomach, meaning there were no broken ribs or anything serious. His eyesight was luckily cleared and he had escaped with just bruises and cuts. Despite what the doctor had said, Tezuka worried a lot for Ryoma.

The boy looked like he was in pain when he walked, his steps stiff and back tense.

"Well," Tezuka shifted the dinner plate in his arms. "Here goes."

The stoic young male rapped his knuckles against the door twice. He waited patiently for a response. There was some shuffling, then:

"Go away!"

"Ryoma…it's Tezuka."

More shuffling. Then, the doorknob turned. Ryoma poked his head out and Tezuka grimaced. The boy's face was sickly pale and hollow, dark circles under his eyes and his hair a damp mess. New and old bruises scattered his face and skin. He was still in his pyjamas, the cute ones that were light blue, but even they seemed to lag on his frail body.

"B-buchou?" the preteen murmured softly.

Tezuka sighed in relief. Ryoma had stopped talking to nearly everyone, but he could still manage a few words in front of him. With a soft thud, Tezuka closed the door behind him and slipped into the room. The blankets on Ryoma's guest bed lay sprawled, slipping off the bed. His clothes were folded neatly on the bedside. Tezuka frowned when he noticed Ryoma had yet to touch any of the video games or books they had offered him.

"Sit." Tezuka gestured to the spot on the bed beside him. Ryoma shifted over and crawled up beside him.

"Here, dinner." Tezuka offered.

"I'm not hungry."

Tezuka clenched his fingers. "You need to eat Ryoma. You need to keep your energy up."

"I did eat." Ryoma snapped, and his voice was raw.

"This _morning_, and just a slice of toast. That's not enough Ryoma."

"Well," Ryoma crossed his arms and flopped down on his back. "I'm not hungry."

Tezuka sighed and put the plate beside him. He would force it down Ryoma's throat somehow, eventually. The boy couldn't go to sleep surviving the entire day on a slice of bread. It just didn't make sense – he knew Rinko's attempted murder had shaken him up, but he didn't know it was to this extent. Despite the fact that his stubbornness flawlessly remained, he wouldn't eat much, talk much, or even _do _anything.

And that was with Tezuka. He refused to speak to Fuji anymore, nor Nanjiroh. He didn't know _why _Ryoma was acting like this – at the beginning, when they'd been sitting on the porch, Ryoma actually seemed like he would be okay. But the next morning, he had promptly turned into a robot.

"So…how're you doing?" Tezuka finally asked softly. He gently mussed up Ryoma's already messy hair, letting his fingers tangle with the black-green strands. Ryoma instinctively leaned into the touch and curled up in the older boy's strong arms, head against Tezuka's chest.

"I'm…" his voice cracked, and he steadied it. "I'm doing okay."

"Mm. Sleeping well?"

"Yeah."

Tezuka squeezed his hand tightly when he felt Ryoma tremble underneath him. "It's alright, you know. It'll take some time, but you'll be fine." He tilted Ryoma's chin slightly so the boy could face him. For a moment, Tezuka was almost knocked backwards. The gold and green in his eyes were so _empty _that it felt like the colour had completely disappeared.

"Hey, Ryoma…"

Ryoma pressed his face against Tezuka's shoulder. "I'm not okay." He muttered quietly. Tezuka took a deep breath and rubbed comforting circles around Ryoma's upper back, careful to avoid any places that may have been hurt. "I know you're not okay. But that doesn't mean you'll _always _be not okay."

The boy made a small noise, something Tezuka couldn't quite comprehend. So, instead, the older boy continued his speech:

"We'll help piece you back together Ryoma. Until you're strong enough to stand alone, I'll hold you up. And eventually, things _will _return to normal." Tezuka's voice was stern in reassurance. "Starting, of course, with eating dinner."

Ryoma lifted his head and whined, "Buchou, I don't want-"

Tezuka stuffed a spoonful of pasta in his mouth. Ryoma's eyes widened and he glared at Tezuka. For a moment, a fire lit in his twelve-year old eyes, burning with challenge. But it was quick to flick away with defeat and slumped shoulders. Tezuka watched – and was comforted again. Ryoma _would _return, whether he wanted to or not.

Ryoma, on the other hand, simply chewed. The food tasted like cardboard.

* * *

"Buchou…"

Tezuka turned slightly, looking over his shoulders. Ryoma was curled up against his bed, blankets tucked to his chin. He appeared so small against the pillows, the moonlight spilling in through the window and illuminating his face. He had managed to eat all of his dinner with much persistence from Tezuka, and several times, the older boy had seen the spark in his eyes light up and disappear.

_He'll be fine soon. He bounces back quick._

After that, Ryoma had taken a warm bath and was ready to hit the bed.

"Sleep well, Ryoma." Tezuka said with a curt nod, about to close the door behind him.

"Buchou…" the smaller boy repeated, tone gentle and embarrassed.

Tezuka stopped in his tracks, and a tremor ran up his back. He once again turned his head to look at Ryoma. "Yes?"

The weak voice mumbled and shifted, cat-like eyes glowing in the dark.

"Sleep with me."

There was a moment of panic in Tezuka's chest. It wasn't that he couldn't control himself – he _could_, he was _known _to control himself. But the boy, snuggled up so soft and delicately under the blankets, in such close proximity to him – well, it would be a tough battle of resistance. Tezuka wasn't sure when he started to want to kiss those plush pink little lips, but the temptation seemed to be growing.

"Why?" The older boy swiftly avoided the question.

"I- I wake up sometimes…from a nightmare. I never scream though, so nobody knows…but it's scary just sitting alone in bed shaking. It's too tiring to get up and get you all the way across the hallway, so I just wait…but sleep never comes."

Tezuka's mouth parted. "You – you get nightmares, Ryoma?"

"I never did. Until now, after the- the-" Ryoma's voice shook. "Whatever! Just sleep with me!"

It wasn't as if Tezuka could say no now. He hadn't known anything about the boy getting nightmares since the incident. It explained why he always seemed so sleepy with black circles under his eyes. With a firm nod, Tezuka slid into the bed next to Ryoma, not bothering to change into pajamas. His sweatpants and shirt were comfortable enough anyway.

Tezuka made sure to lie on the complete opposite end of the bed, just _in case _he got sudden temptations to smother his kohai with kisses. Of course, he knew he would never do that – especially not right now, when Ryoma was in such a fragile state of mind.

But Ryoma was making it hard.

The twelve-year old – intentionally or not, Tezuka couldn't tell – shifted closer to Tezuka, rolling over so he faced the stoic captain. Through the darkness, Tezuka could see his wide, glowing gold eyes, bright in the blackness of night. A second later, his fingers reached down and clutched Tezuka's arm, and he snuggled up to the captain's strong posture.

Tezuka stiffened, and momentarily forgot how to breathe.

_He's my kohai. Must. Not. Take. Advantage._

"Hm, Buchou?"

The cute voice bounced off the walls of the room. Tezuka heard the innocence of the tone so clearly in the silent night.

"Yes?"

"I feel a bit better. Just a little bit."

Tezuka closed his eyes, a smile nudging at his lips. "Go to sleep, Ryoma."

"Buchou…since when did you start calling me Ryoma?"

A flush darkened on Tezuka's cheeks and down the side of his neck; he had not expected that. Truthfully, he couldn't really think of the answer himself. Why _was _he calling Ryoma by his first name, instead of his last? Ryoma must have sensed Tezuka tense, because he continued.

"It doesn't matter. But since you call me Ryoma, does that mean I can call you Kunimit-"

"Ryoma," Tezuka said warningly.

"Fine." The boy grunted and shoved his head in the pillow. "Be like that, _buchou._"

This time, Tezuka couldn't contain the smile that exploded on his face. He didn't know why he was feeling so out of sorts, but he was mostly just glad it was dark so Ryoma couldn't witness the blushing and smiling. He just loved the way Ryoma said 'buchou' in a respectful yet inquisitive tone, always filled with curiosity. The boy was seriously full of surprises.

_He'll heal quickly. He always does._

Tezuka heard Ryoma's breathing even out as he finally lulled to sleep.

_He's already on his way._

* * *

Tezuka woke up to somebody shaking him. _Morning, already? _The captain thought, but when he blinked his eyes open, darkness poured into his vision. Always quick to come to his senses, Tezuka realized he was still sleeping in Ryoma's guest bedroom and that the person shaking him was _Ryoma _himself.

The older boy quickly sat up and fumbled for his glasses. When he put them on, he turned to face Ryoma. "What's the matter, Ryo-" he stopped.

Ryoma was sitting there, taking in long gulps of air while shaking like mad. His entire body trembled, and his fingers twisted the blankets tightly. "The- she'll…come back…."

"Who will?" Tezuka murmured. He reached over and scooped Ryoma into his arms. When he patted his head, he could see Ryoma's hair was damp from sweat. The preteen wasn't crying, but his eyes were wet and he was shuddering every few seconds.

"Kaa-san…she'll kill me…"

Tezuka's breath hitched, and he tightened his hold. "It was just a nightmare, Ryoma. Rinko-san is in _court, _and in temporary jail. And don't you worry, that temporary _will _become permanent in a matter of a few days. She can't – no, she _won't _hurt you again."

For a moment, Ryoma went completely still. Tezuka wondered if he'd said something wrong. Then, a long shudder ran through the boy's body as he collapsed into Tezuka's arms. "You," the boy mumbled, trembling again, but not as violently. "You, buchou, have a very strong voice."

Tezuka wondered what that was supposed to mean.

"It's so firm – it took me forever to snap out of my nightmares before, but today when you spoke, I was back to my senses so quickly. Your voice…it's – it's so strong."

The captain really was confused now. "Thank you, Ryoma?" he asked, a bit of question in his voice.

Ryoma shook his head, and snuggled up to Tezuka's chest. There was a smile to his voice:

"No, thank _you, _buchou."

* * *

Ryoma woke up to warm afternoon sunlight filtering in through the window. It lit up the small guestroom with bright gray, and for a second, Ryoma forgot everything. He forgot about Rinko, the abuse, the attempted murder – for just a tiny, tiny second, he felt like he'd awoken on a very normal morning with only tennis on his mind.

Then, he tried to sit up and groaned in pain.

"Buchou-" he started his complaint, but noticed the captain was not next to him. The sheets on Tezuka's side were neatly folded, and his glasses had disappeared from the side table. For a split second, the boy panicked, and his heart rate sped up, but he quickly calmed down. Tezuka was probably downstairs, since the captain was such an early waker.

Ryoma flopped back down on his back. He really didn't have the energy to get up and go downstairs right now. His muscles ached, and the fact that he hadn't been eating right lately had taken its toll. _I could get up and go downstairs. Really, I can walk now. I think. No, I definitely can walk. It'd just be tiring and- okay, no. I have to try walking. I have to get back to normal. _

With cautious movements, Ryoma slipped off the bed. He winced as pain soared through his calves. "Hn. Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

Tiredly, he lugged himself to the door and threw it open. He was aware he probably looked half-dead right now, but it didn't matter. Tezuka wouldn't care how he looked – the captain cared for him either way. _Woah…wait. He's my __buchou, __nothing more than that. I think._

Walking down the stairs took quite some effort, especially because he'd been lazing around in the guest room for the last few days. After his muscles eased in to the motion, though, he managed to make it down the stairwell without tripping and falling on his rear-end.

"Yeah, Fuji, I'm kind of worried about him. He hasn't been eating right and everything."

Ryoma froze, and he slipped behind the staircase to listen.

"Ah, Tezuka, _you're _the one who said he'll be fine. It'll take some time, but Echizen's strong."

"I know he is. That's the thing, though, he's shutting everybody off besides me. He won't even talk to his father or _you_, nevermind the rest of the team."

"That's why _I _have a plan…"

"And does that plan include telling me about what the plan is?" Ryoma said bluntly as he walked into the kitchen. For a moment, Tezuka and Fuji just stared at him, eyes wide and blinking. Tezuka looked worried that Ryoma had walked down the stairs by himself, and Fuji hid a smirk behind his hand.

"Echizen, you were listening?" the tensai asked.

Ryoma shrugged. He winced and rolled his shoulders, before sitting down on one of the swivel chairs. "Buchou, you don't have to worry about me." His voice softened. "I'm okay, really. Even though I still get the nightmares and stuff, I'm really trying to forget about what happened."

"But your eating habits-"

"I'll eat. For your sake."

"And your sleeping habit-"

"As long as you sleep next to me, I'll be fine."

Fuji snickered.

"And what about you shutting everybody off-"

"Fuji-senpai has a plan, right?"

Tezuka stared at him, stunned. "Ryoma, did you…did something happen overnight for you to suddenly act like nothing happened and that you're perfectly fine? You were definitely upset last night, and for the past few days, and now you're suddenly…"

"I got bored."

"You got _bored_?" Tezuka asked in disbelief.

"Of moping."

Tezuka just looked at him. He couldn't tell if the boy was pretending to hide everything inside and act like he was fine, or if he'd literally had an overnight recovery. He tried to get a good look at Ryoma's eyes, but the boy had his head ducked down and was fiddling with the edge of the table. Finally, the 12-year old looked up, and his eyes were not empty but nor were they bright.

"You helped, buchou. Last night, you don't know how much you did for me."

Tezuka felt a very faint blush caress his cheeks. He really hoped nobody could see under the stark light of the dining table. "Well, I'm glad that you're feeling a bit better. Perhaps Fuji's idea won't be as much of a burden on you."

Ryoma rested his chin on his hands. "Hmm. Fuji-senpai, what's this plan you're talking about anyway?"

"Oh, nothing." Fuji said pleasantly. "Just be showered and dressed in decent clothes by this evening. And don't eat too much tonight."

Tezuka looked like he wanted to argue, but decided against it. There really was no point in trying to defy Fuji. Ryoma also looked like he wanted to argue, but was smart enough to just roll his eyes pointedly and slump down in his chair. He still seemed tired, yawning every few seconds, his appearance rumpled.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Tezuka asked.

"I don't know – I guess, something Japanese."

Tezuka nodded and was about to disappear into the kitchen when Fuji's hand shot out and grabbed his sleeve, stopping the captain in his tracks. "Wait," he said softly, blue eyes sad. "We still have to tell him about the phone call."

The stoic boy's eyes widened subtly. He swallowed hard, and hoped with every little piece of his heart that Ryoma wouldn't take this badly. The boy was finally starting to recover, and Tezuka wasn't sure how he'd react to this slice of news.

"What phone call?" Ryoma demanded, his sharp hearing catching what Fuji said.

Fuji turned to him with a grimace-smile. "It's technically good news."

"But we're not sure if you'll like it." Tezuka explained.

"What is it?" Ryoma demanded. He sunk his fingers into the cuff of his sleeve, eyes ablaze with demand. "What news?"

Fuji and Tezuka exchanged glances. Then, the latter slipped into the seat beside Ryoma and gently took the boy's quavering hands in his own. Ryoma hitched his breath and tried to quell the shaking, but he was so nervous about what Tezuka was going to say that he only trembled harder. "It's alright," Tezuka said, and he tightened his grip around Ryoma's smaller hands. "We got a phone call this morning from your father."

"Oyaji?" Ryoma mumbled.

"Yes," Tezuka hesitated. "He said…that it's official."

"What is?" Ryoma snapped.

There was a long a pause.

"That your mother's in jail. The court decided it this morning."

For a moment, Ryoma said nothing. Tezuka saw a million different emotions flash across his gold eyes, but they passed so quickly and insignificantly that the older boy couldn't decipher a single one. Then, the 12-year old buried his face in his hands.

_Is…is he crying_? Tezuka wondered.

The prospect was quickly diminished when Ryoma suddenly looked up and forced a smile. "Okay."

"That's all you've got to say?" Tezuka asked suspiciously. Beside him, Fuji cradled his coffee closer to his chest, icy eyes contemplating over what Ryoma said. There was a moment where both their eyes met, then transferred to Ryoma like they were examining him. To Tezuka, none of this made sense. He had expected Ryoma to either be upset or extremely relieved, but not _this._ He'd acted like Tezuka hadn't said anything at all.

"Yes, okay." Ryoma said. "Now can I have some milk?"

Tezuka and Fuji blinked simultaneously.

"Milk," Tezuka repeated, baffled. He adjusted his glasses and narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you the slightest bit upset? Or even happy? I don't believe anyone can heal from such a traumatic event this quickly."

Fuji sipped on his coffee. Outside, rain fogged up the sky. "Unless," his voice was swift in the silence of the room. "You're hiding your feelings again."

"Don't mistake me for buchou," Ryoma countered dryly.

Tezuka gave him an I'm-the-captain look and Ryoma shrunk down in his seat sheepishly. Even so, he could feel Tezuka and Fuji's curiosity about how he had reacted burning in their gazes. He straightened up, winced as his back hurt, before clearing his throat:

"I already said I'm sick of being upset. So, I'm just going to pretend you never told me anything just now and forget about it."

There was another long silence.

Tezuka steepled his fingers against his chin with an unreadable expression tight on his face. "That's…" he wasn't sure what words could fill in the rest.

Fuji intercepted. "That's an interesting theory, Echizen. I'm just not sure if it's the right way to go about this."

"It's a perfectly fine way to go about this." Ryoma argued, but Tezuka could hear his voice edging with weary. The boy clenched his fingers tightly, before unclenching them. They left deep marks in his palms and the captain knew the boy was still having a tough time. "I just…I want to forget about what happened. What's so wrong in that?"

His voice cracked at the end and he looked away. "Now give me my milk."

Tezuka stood up. He knew once Ryoma was on a stubborn streak, there was no point in trying to defy him. He was a little like Fuji, in that matter. Neither of them would change their mind once their decision was final, especially Fuji. If things didn't go his way, Tezuka would promptly be on the lookout for being blackmailed.

"Fine. Do you want warm milk, or cold?"

"Warm."

Fuji grinned. "Echizen is just like a kitten, don't you think, Tezuka?"

Ryoma turned red at the comment and glared at Fuji like there was no tomorrow. His lower lip stuck out cutely as he tried to force the prodigy to take back what he said. "I'm not like a kitten," he said lowly.

"Well, technically," Fuji pondered this. "You have cat-like eyes."

"That can't be denied." Tezuka nodded.

"…and you like milk, right?"

"Not _that _much." Ryoma scoffed.

"And you like to take naps everywhere."

"Also can't be denied." Tezuka started towards the kitchen to get Ryoma's milk.

Ryoma narrowed his eyes. "I just get sleepy-"

"_And _you have special relationships with cats. You have a kitten, right? Karupin or something?"

"Another good point, Fuji." Tezuka said seriously, looking over his shoulder.

Ryoma was a little embarrassed by this point. He knew he wasn't a cat – for goodness sake, cats didn't play tennis. But some of the stuff actually made sense – like his eyes, and the fact that he liked to sleep in random places. He brushed his hair from his face and frowned. "I'm not a kitten," he finally said stubbornly.

"Not only that," Fuji's eyes flashed open. The killer point was coming. "But you're small and cuddly, just like a kitten. _Especially _when it comes to cuddling with Tezuka."

Ryoma made a small choking noise and felt his entire face flush bright red. He scowled at the innocent look on Fuji's face and buried his face in his arms. Burning – his entire face was burning, he could feel it. _Buchou is so lucky, _the Seigaku rookie thought, _He's getting the milk so he didn't have to hear that __ridiculous__ comment…it's not even true…I think. I mean, I know I cuddle up with him a lot these days, but it's only because of everything that happened…I needed him to support me…I __still __need him to support me._

"Well," Fuji said, thoroughly pleased with himself. He stood up, leaving the now-drained coffee mug on the table. He flashed Ryoma, whose cheeks were still pink, an innocent smile. "I think I'll be going now."

"Go ahead." Ryoma muttered from under his arms. "I'll be more than happy."

Fuji grabbed his sweater that lay haphazardly on the chair and flung it on. He nodded once more to Ryoma before turning on his heel, slithering away towards the door in less than a split second. When Ryoma was sure he had heard the door shut with a satisfying click, he finally lifted his face up. He was sure his skin had returned to its normal colour by now.

At that moment, Tezuka walked in holding a warm glass of milk. "Where's Fuji?"

"He left."

"Ah," Tezuka slid into the chair next to Ryoma and handed him the cup. "Here's your milk."

"Thanks."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Ryoma sipped on his milk and Tezuka watched him. The boy was doing a remarkable job of making the act of drinking milk look attractive. He would first lean down and move the cup a little closer to his mouth, before tilting the cup just the slightest so he almost slurped on the liquid, the milk spilling in through his parted lips.

_Fuji might actually be right. Ryoma is a kitten._

"Ah…buchou?" Ryoma said. His wide eyes blinked cutely. "Do you think I'm like a kitten?"

Tezuka coughed, and felt his face heat up. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and looked away. "No, of course not. You're nothing like a kitten."

Satisfied, Ryoma turned back to his milk, unaware of Tezuka's lingering, awe swept gaze.

* * *

**I'm seriously having issues. I think this chapter strayed way too far from the actual plot of the story. Serious apologies. The chapter was supposed to be how Ryoma was all upset about everything that happened, but for some reason, I typed up a whole load of pillar fluff and slight, lame humour about Ryoma being a kitten. I'm sorry. I hope the fluff makes up for the lack of angst and pain that **_**should**_** have been in this chapter. Although, keep in mind, this is a few days **_**after **_**the incident, so he did have time to heal a bit.**


	25. To Enjoy

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Second last chapter *shivers*. I don't know if I'm glad or sad that I'm almost done this story. Anyway, I've already wrote out the final chapter, so it'll be update either tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. Waah! Technically, this story is done for me since I've already written it out! Thanks for all the reviews and support!

**Warnings:** Weekly-ish updates. OOC big time on Rinko.. . . **So, I didn't like this chapter. I didn't enjoy writing it at all that I had to force myself to write bits and pieces to get through with it. Thus, I'm guessing you won't enjoy reading it. On the bright side, I had fun writing the final chapter, and that'll be updated soon as well.**

* * *

_Remember about tonight, k? ^.^_

Tezuka stared at the cell phone screen with a sigh. Fuji's recent text message was a flash on the small electronic. He shut the device and tucked it back into his pocket. In a way, he kind of agreed with Fuji's idea – it would probably heighten Ryoma's spirits a bit more, and it was only fair for the rest of the teammates who had been frantically worrying about why Ryoma wasn't coming to practice. He just wasn't sure how Ryoma would react to it.

"Ryoma," Tezuka climbed up the stairs. He knocked on the guest room door. "Can I come in?"

He heard the soft footsteps of the twelve-year old as the boy reached the door and opened it. Ryoma poked his head out and smirked. "Can you? I'm _sure _you _can_ come in if you wanted to. It's a matter of _may _you come in or not."

Tezuka narrowed his eyes. Ryoma was getting a little too comfortable with him – he wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Well, Echizen, this is my household. And it's certainely not English class at the moment."

Ryoma frowned, and bit his lower lip. "Oh. Well."

"It's not a big deal or anything," Tezuka quickly assured him.

"No. It's just – you called me Echizen."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Tezuka watched as the boy in front of him stared at the ground, a faint blush on his cheeks. Then, Ryoma suddenly looked up and fiercely met his eyes, and this time, when he spoke, there was no shyness at all:

"I like it when you call me Ryoma."

"Ah." Tezuka nodded stiffly. "Then Ryoma it is."

Another awkward pause ensued, and both Ryoma and Tezuka looked anywhere but at each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Tezuka quickly surveyed Ryoma. He looked a lot better than last night – freshened up, hair combed, eyes a little brighter. His bruises were still there though and his steps continued to have a lag, but things were ultimately looking up for the boy.

"So, buchou," Ryoma yawned. "Did you have to tell me something?"

"Right. You're all dressed and showered, am I correct?"

Ryoma nodded, staring down at his pair of shorts and t-shirt. He looked at his legs and frowned – he could see the scrapes and cuts so clearly and suddenly he wished he was wearing pants. He shifted behind the door to hide himself, then thought better of it and opened the door wide for Tezuka to come in.

"It's a little messy," Ryoma mumbled.

In truth, Tezuka didn't find it very messy at all. Compared to most preteen boys, Ryoma was probably fairly organized. Sure, the sheets were rumpled and one of his shirts was on the ground, but most of his clothes were neatly folded and he always made sure to put away any of the video games he played with.

"Actually, the thing is, remember Fuji had that plan? About this evening?"

Ryoma blinked, more alert. "He was serious about that?"

Tezuka nodded slowly. "Yes, he was. You should put on a sweater in case it gets cold, and I'll wait downstairs for us to leave."

"Wait – but, we're we going?"

Tezuka paused at the doorway and looked over his shoulder. The brown in his eyes were on fire, and the faintest trace of a smile eased onto his face.

"Surprise."

* * *

The moment Ryoma took a step outside of Tezuka's house, he shivered. The air cut frigid into the pores of his open legs, and he hugged the Seigaku jersey tighter to his body. Maybe he should run inside and change into some pants, but the last thing he wanted was to avoid the bruises any longer. He didn't want to hide them anymore – anyone who saw him could see them clear as day, and he was determined not to care.

"You should have worn pants," Tezuka himself was dressed in a comfortable pair of sweatpants. He reached down and grabbed Ryoma's hand, calloused fingers tightening their grip. "Do you mind walking there? It's not too far, but if you're too tired…"

"I'm not." Ryoma tried to tug away his hand. He didn't like being treated like a baby. It never occurred to him that maybe Tezuka liked the feeling of their fingers interlocked and wasn't doing it simply to take care of him.

Tezuka just gripped his hand tighter, and began walking down the sidewalk. Ryoma trotted after him. Above them, the sun was warm and dying under the hillside. Clouds were no longer white, but a mixture of oranges and pinks and the colour life. Ryoma wondered when he'd taken such a liking to the sunset – he just never realized how pretty it was. He felt dumb thinking about things like that – what he really should have been focusing on was that they were walking towards a familiar direction that made dread fill his stomach.

He stopped in his tracks, and abruptly pulled his hand away. "The sushi shop." He said as he realized the direction they were going.

Tezuka stepped aside. He nodded in confirmation, eyes soft. "Everyone will be there. Ryoma, I know you might not want to face your friends, but the team is worried about you. How do you think Momoshiro is coping with you being absent for so long? Or Kikumaru? Or the entire team, for that matter?"

Ryoma stared at his shoes. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

"Ryoma, I'm only trying to help you." Tezuka put a hand on his shoulder, and Ryoma tensed. The captain's breath was fresh and minty by his ears. "That's all I've ever tried to do."

"But…" Ryoma ignored the swelling in his heart. "What am I supposed to tell them?"

Tezuka smiled, and against the warm sunset, his face glowed.

"The truth would be a good start."

* * *

"I'm cold, buchou."

"It's not much longer. Just a few more blocks."

Ryoma shivered and hugged himself, scurrying to keep up with Tezuka's long strides. It bothered him that the captain could take three large steps that were equivalent to his seven steps. _Seriously, Inui-senpai said the milk thing works, but I don't see a difference in my height. _He sped up his pace, ignoring the burn in his legs and tiredness lagging over his body.

"Couldn't we have waited until tomorrow morning?" Ryoma muttered, falling in step beside Tezuka. "I'm not really in the mood right now."

Tezuka sighed. "Stop complaining."

There was silence as the captain noticed that the footsteps of his companion had stopped. He looked over his shoulder to see Ryoma's feet firmly planted on the sidewalk, arms crossed over his chest, a glare in his eyes. "I'm not complaining," he snapped. "I mean no disrespect, _buchou_, but I'm cold, tired, and sleepy."

For a split second, Tezuka just stared at him. Ryoma waited to be lectured, but his eyebrows shot up when the older boy swiftly wrapped him in a hug. He could feel the strong arms around his back, and Ryoma instinctively snuggled closer for warmth. "I know, I know," Tezuka murmured in his ear, voice gentle. He tightened his grip. "Still cold?"

Ryoma didn't answer, his eyes drooping. "You're warm buchou."

Tezuka flushed and muttered something incoherent to himself. They stood like for a long moment, the world silent aside from a few rushing cars and the electricity wires humming with the flapping of birds. The dipping sunlight made them both appear more tan than usual, and when Tezuka looked down at the boy in his arms, he thought of the colour golden.

Another minute passed, and Tezuka awkwardly cleared his throat. "Well, we should get going."

Ryoma reluctantly nodded. He pulled apart and shuffled forward, but his fingers immediately reached out and grabbed the captain's hand. Tezuka nodded slightly and they started to walk, although confusion was clear in both of their faces.

_What __am__ I doing? Do people go around holding hands like this? Is it normal? _Ryoma paused in his train of thought and frowned. _What am I saying? I like holding hands with buchou, so who cares what the hell is right and what's wrong. _

Ryoma smiled to himself and tilted his head to look at Tezuka. Unaware, the older boy only continued to move forward. After a few more minutes, they reached the front entrance of the familiar Sushi shop that they had celebrated in too many times to count. Both boys stood in front of it for a moment, memories flooding back.

"Ah, buchou…" Ryoma smirked. "Remember when Kawamura-senpai's father thought you were a teacher?"

Tezuka said nothing.

"It must have been because of that serious face you keep all the time."

Still, Tezuka said nothing.

"Smile for me."

This time, Tezuka's deep brown eyes brightened against the dim glow of the skyline. He turned to look down at the preteen. Ryoma felt giddy as he thought the captain was actually going to listen to him and give him a smile. His hope went down the drain pretty quickly.

"Ryoma, once you're back to your normal condition, twenty laps around the court."

The boy's jaw went slack. "Why?"

Tezuka didn't reply and simply pushed the doors open, but if Ryoma hadn't been so busy cursing to himself, he would have noticed the small smile adorned on the captain's lips.

* * *

The moment Ryoma stepped into the warmth of the Sushi shop, he felt a tremendous urge to run right back out of there. The comforting scent of the shop eased his nerves, but he still felt sick. He took a step backwards, almost stumbling, but Tezuka steadied him. "Buchou-"

Tezuka interrupted him, "Don't worry. I assure you everything will go smoothly."

Ryoma dropped his gaze. "Fine."

At first, nobody really noticed them since they had entered so quietly. Especially because whenever the regulars gathered around, the Sushi shop ended up being quite loud and chaotic. Kikumaru and Momoshiro were once again fighting over the last piece of sushi on the plate, while Kaidoh was observing Momoshiro and calling him a 'baka' under his breath. Inui stood at the corner of the room with his face buried in his notebook. Kawamura was nowhere to be seen, so Ryoma assumed he was in the kitchen helping his father make the sushi. Fuji had his eyes closed and was amusedly watching Oishi struggle to help a now choking Momoshiro.

It was surprisingly Momoshiro who noticed them first. He was in the middle of sputtering and catching his breath after choking on the piece of Sushi when his vision caught sight of the captain. The moment he saw Tezuka, his eyes flitted down towards the small figure standing beside him.

"Echizen!"

In an instant, the entire room went silent. Ryoma's chest tightened.

They all had their eyes on him, burning into his skin and trying to decipher his emotions. It didn't take long for them to see the additional bruises on his legs and arms, along with the new ones on his face. Although the cuts were slowly healing themselves, they were still clear in the stark light of the Sushi shop.

Ryoma had expected everyone to go into a frenzy about what happened, but instead they just stared at him quietly, eyes wide. Ryoma wished they would go into a panic instead. Anything was better than the tense silence so thick in the air.

"Everyone," Tezuka said, voice calm. Ryoma had forgotten he was even there and felt his shoulders relax.

"Tezuka…" Oishi said in a wobbly voice, but his eyes were trained on Ryoma. The boy of attention narrowed his gaze and put on his best scowl to intimidate them. He was pretty sure it didn't work, because they were all still looking at him without saying a single word.

Tezuka nodded to Oishi. "I assure you, there's no need to worry."

Momoshiro finally found his voice. "No need to worry?" he wondered aloud, as if he couldn't really believe his ears. He knew this was the captain talking, so there had to be some reason behind it, but he couldn't help but find the statement ridiculous. He rose from his seat, violet eyes on fire. "How can I _not _be worried when I see my best friend like _that_? He's been missing school for days, and now he just shows up with a bunch of bruises and you expect me _not _to worry."

Tezuka wasn't going to scold Momoshiro for his response. It was expected. "Now, Momoshiro-"

"Buchou didn't mean it that way."

Everyone's eyes darted to Ryoma, who pulled his cap down over his head. "He meant that even though I have bruises, everything's done. You don't need to worry anymore. The cuts will heal soon, and I'll be back to playing tennis in no time."

"Yeah, but," Kikumaru spoke up, and Ryoma was shocked to see tears brimming the red-head's eyes. "_How _did it happen Ochibi? Things like this, you can't just shrug off and tell us nothing happened…"

"I know, it's just…"

Fuji's lips quirked. "Welcome, Echizen. How're you feeling?"

Ryoma glared at him. This was all his fault.

Inui had his pen frozen in mid-stroke, but he quickly found his momentum and started writing furiously. "It seems that Fuji is a little too calm for the intensity of the situation. Therefore, he must have some or all knowledge of the events that took place with Echizen."

"So Fuji-senpai knows." Kaidoh grunted.

Fuji just continued to smile innocently. "Tezuka's right. There's no need to worry. The little kitten over there is on his way to recovery."

"_Kitten_?" Ryoma took a step forward to attack his senpai, but Tezuka grabbed his arm. Ryoma frowned and refrained from lunging at Fuji, but he could feel irritation in his throat. This kitten thing seriously made him feel weak and vulnerable – because, really, that's how kittens were. _Not even a cat, but a __kitten__. That's such a stab at my pride._

"Here's another round of sushi," Kawamura's friendly voice filled the room as he walked in holding a tray in his hand. He raised an eyebrow. "How come everyone's so quiet?"

Oishi silently pointed to Ryoma.

Kawamura nearly dropped the plate in his hand, but managed to fumble for balance. "Echizen," he asked, mouth open. His eyes quickly scanned the appearance of the boy, and his throat turned dry. "Are- are you alright?"

"He says there's no need to worry," Momoshiro grumbled. His hand clenched into a fist. "Like I can help it. I've been worrying about him since he stopped showing up for practice, and now he just waltzes in with cuts and scrapes and doesn't bother to explain what happened."

"I don't waltz," Ryoma snapped. _What is __with__ these people? First I'm a kitten, and now I waltz, and ugh, I shouldn't have agreed to come…_

Kaidoh spoke up in a gruff voice, "Can you just tell us?"

"No."

Tezuka's eyes shot to Ryoma. "Yes."

Everyone held their breaths hopefully. If Tezuka commanded it, they predicted that Ryoma wouldn't disobey. Ryoma's eyes turned fierce and his eyebrow twitched with the need to defy Tezuka's orders. Maybe if they were in private he would have complained, but everyone was there, his captain was telling him to explain everything, and he didn't really have an option but to comply.

"Fine." Ryoma said stonily. "I just had something personal going on at home."

Everyone blinked. Kikumaru crossed his arms and huffed, "_Ochibi_, that doesn't explain anything! We already figured that out by ourselves!"

"Yeah," Momoshiro said lowly, eyes locking with the preteen. "Be more specific."

Ryoma swallowed. "Okay. Fine."

He glanced at Tezuka who had the faintest reassuring smile on his face. The captain nodded slightly, and Ryoma took a deep breath.

"Kaa-san…got a bit…" he poked around for the right word. He didn't want to say abused – that would probably stir too much panic. "…violent with me."

Another round of deep silence ensued. Ryoma watched the faces of his teammates crackle into different expressions – shock, rage (Momoshiro), disbelief. He didn't want to seem timid, so he met each of their eyes firmly.

"You mean, she _abused _you?" Oishi screeched. He abruptly strode over to Ryoma. Taking this as a lead, the rest of the team also scurried into a circle around him, words of bewilderment mingling against each other.

"She…um…" Ryoma frowned. "Yeah, pretty much."

"What the _hell_?" Momoshiro roared, eyes aflame. Every muscle in his face had gone stiff. "That's not right, not right at all!"

"I think I know that," Ryoma deadpanned. He craned his neck desperately to find Tezuka, but the captain seemed to have resorted to talking to Kawamura's dad by the counter. _Way to go buchou, abandon me in my time of need. _He shuffled his eyes around the group in front of him.

"Echizen, are you _okay_?" Oishi emphasized, heart pounding a million miles per minute.

Ryoma opened his mouth to answer, but was quickly crushed by Kikumaru in a tight hug. The red-head jolted the boy around, mussing up his hair, trying to blink back tears. He was a very sensitive person, and to see his _Ochibi _get hurt like that was unacceptable. "You should have told us Ochibi," Kikumaru said, holding him closer. Ryoma gasped for breath, barely managing a nod.

Kaidoh nodded at him. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Ryoma choked out. "Kikumaru-senpai, too tight…"

The red-head relaxed his grip and finally entangled himself from Ryoma. The boy caught his breath and lifted his head up, only to see Inui kneeling in front of him with his glasses shining right in his face. Ryoma took a step backwards awkwardly.

"Inui-senpai?"

"Those are quite a lot of bruises, but they all seem to be fairly new," Inui studied him carefully. "It seems that this has all occurred over a span of a few days."

"Well," Ryoma took another step backward, eyes desperately searching for Tezuka. "She was just stressed about work and stuff so I guess…"

"But she still shouldn't have done such a thing," Kawamura said, eyes still considerably wide. He shifted the plate in his hands. "Besides, you should have told us when we asked about that bruise on your face a few days back."

"Exactly," Kikumaru jumped in. "You lied!"

"I didn't-" Ryoma paused. "Fuji-senpai, _say something."_

Fuji tilted his head up, and amusement flickered on his face. "Say what Echizen? There's really nothing to say, unless you want to mention the fact that not only did your mother abuse you, but also tried to kill you a few nights back."

Kikumaru stumbled backwards. Oishi caught him. An overwhelming silence hushed over the group.

Ryoma glared at Fuji, swallowed hard, and tried to hide the fact that this was making him uneasy. Tezuka had finally bothered to look up from his conversation, and Ryoma felt like shooting over to the boy and collapsing in his arms. _Ch', since when have I been so dependent on buchou anyway? _Ryoma stared at the ground.

"Echizen…" Oishi's voice was dangerously low. "Is what Fuji said true?"

The subtlest of nods sent wide gasps throughout the room. Kikumaru had finally given up trying not to cry and just hid his face in Oishi's shoulder as a few tears skidded down his cheeks. Inui dropped his book onto the ground, the pen clattering noisily in the soundless shop. Kaidoh was frozen, and Kawamura fainted.

Only Momoshiro actually spoke.

"Is she in jail?"

"Huh?" Ryoma's voice was raspy. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, she is."

Momoshiro's violet eyes bore into Ryoma's gold ones, deep and contemplating. "She's in jail?"

Ryoma narrowed his eyes. "I already s_aid _yes._"_

"Okay, okay, that's good. Then…are you okay? How are you doing?"

The preteen raised an eyebrow. "Gee, I'm actually doing pretty good for someone who just recently almost got murdered, thanks for asking. How about you?"

"Don't joke." Momoshiro snapped, eyes full of emotion.

Ryoma shrugged. "I'm allowed to joke if I want to."

Inui gained composure and picked up his book that lay haphazardly on the ground. He adjusted his glasses and murmured something, flipping through the pages. "This is ridiculous, even through all my data collection, I never would have predicted…"

Kaidoh looked at Inui, a flash in his eyes. "I don't think anyone could predict this, senpai."

"It's _over_, though," Ryoma emphasized.

Kikumaru glanced up, eyes red. He managed a teary smile. "Ochibi is so strong, nya,"

"Of course, of course," Oishi didn't seem to be listening, fretting over things that could have gone wrong. "Of course, if his behaviour patterns change, therapy or counseling might be necessary. Also, we better get another full checkup to make sure he didn't break any bones or-"

"Hey, Echizen," Momoshiro's loud voice drowned out Oishi's panic.

"Yeah?"

Momoshiro held out a plate, and shot Ryoma a full smile.

"Want some sushi?"

* * *

Eventually, the questions and concerns faded. Everyone in the group could see that Ryoma would be fine soon, and since the issue had been cleared, they didn't see the bother in doing anything more than worrying for him. After the interrogating was done, Ryoma treaded over to where Tezuka was sitting, sipping coffee silently.

"Hey, buchou…can I sit with you?" Ryoma asked.

Tezuka looked up, eyes warm. "You should sit with Momoshiro and Kikumaru right now. They missed you a lot, and you really should spend some time with people around your age."

Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "You and Kikumaru-senpai are the same age, aren't you?"

"Ah, but are maturity levels are vast. Sit with them, for now."

The younger boy frowned at the rejection, but knew Tezuka only meant well for him. With a sigh, he slid off the extra stool and trailed obediently to the table where the rest of his teammates were sitting. The moment he sat into the space beside Momoshiro and Kikumaru, they started urging him to eat this sushi and that.

Fuji pushed a plate near him. "Try this one, Echizen."

Ryoma looked at him and spoke firmly, "No thanks Fuji-senpai. I'm not in the mood to burn my throat."

"Hm," Fuji said innocently, popping a piece of sushi into his mouth. He tilted his head. "tastes fine to me."

"_Everything _tastes fine to him," Momoshiro grumbled under his breath. He nudged Ryoma. "You missed way too much practice. You _won't _believe the drill Inui-senpai planned for us. We had to run rounds with rol-"

"Oh yeah, oh yeah!" Kikumaru jumped in excitedly. "We had to wear really heavy roller blades so it took so much effort to actually do like one lap, and it was funny, because Momoshiro didn't know how to roller blade so he kept falling and stu-"

"Hey!" Momoshiro argued, "I totally knew how to rollerblade!"

"Yeah, right," Kaidoh hissed. "Then why'd you keep falling on your ass?"

"It was _because _somebody kept bumping into me," Momoshiro defended, eyes locking on his rivals.

"Are you implying something?"

"So what if I _am_?"

Kikumaru blinked as the two started to argue, spitting comebacks at one another. He chuckled and turned his attention back to Ryoma, who seemed bored. "But the worst part…" he widened his eyes for dramatic effect, "The last person to finish the roller blading thing had to drink _Inui Juice…_"

"That's nothing new," Ryoma shrugged. "Though I'm glad I wasn't there for it."

"Yeah, except the person who drank it passed out for four whole hours!"

Ryoma looked startled. "Who…came in last?"

"Momo!" Kikumaru sang, "that's why I'm saying that he doesn't know how to rollerblade!"

A smile grew on Ryoma's face. He swung his attention over to a disgruntled Momoshiro. "Well, Momo-senpai, I might just have to teach you rollerblading one day."

"You, _teach _me?" Momoshiro shook his head rapidly. "Rollerblading is the kinda thing that you need someone to catch you when you fall. And I know for a fact that you won't be able to catch me if I lose my balance."

"Why not?"

"Because you're a tiny chibi," Kikumaru grinned from ear or ear. "And you'd probably collapse under his weight."

Ryoma frowned. "No, I could handle it."

"It's like trying to lift Momoshiro up right now, just with your arms," Oishi explained in a kind voice. "Echizen, do you honestly think you can do that?"

"Yes," Ryoma said stubbornly. "In a few years or so."

"Ah," Momoshiro waggled a finger in front of him. "but we don't have a few years now, do we?"

"Hn…" Ryoma made a discontented noise. "My senpai-tachi always make fun of my height."

Fuji took a slurp out of his drink (a drink Ryoma was wary to know the name of). "Don't worry Echizen, I'm fairly short too. But I get around, don't I?" He tilted his head as if amused by his own thoughts. "People seem to fear me, and I'm slender and pretty small. I wonder why?"

Ryoma gave him a look. "I don't _want _to be like you, Fuji-senpai."

"Are you sure?" Fuji said pleasantly. "Imagine not being afraid of having to drink Inui-juice every practice. Wouldn't you want that?"

"Yeah…but…" Ryoma scrambled for a comeback. He smirked, "at least I have motivation to run and play tennis harder."

"I have motivation too." Fuji patted Ryoma's head like he was a small child. "I make sure I'm not last so I can see the rest of you suffer."

Ryoma inched to the edge of his seat. "Fuji-senpai, you're creepy."

Fuji shrugged and bent down to take another sip. "I've been called worse."

Ryoma ripped his eyes away from Fuji's gaze and leaned back into his chair. He felt so _happy_ right now, it was almost odd. He should have been upset that everyone knew, but now he just felt better. Like everything was finally getting back to normal. Ryoma lowered his cap down and hid a smile. His gold-green eyes danced in the stark light. Why was it that Tezuka was _always _right?

The preteen closed his eyes for a moment. He could hear the laughter and buzz around him, and his shoulders relaxed.

_I wonder how I will ever repay buchou for everything he did for me…_

"Ah, Echizen! Kikumaru-senpai is trying to steal my sushi!"

Ryoma opened an eye and felt warm and fuzzy on the inside. Inui sat at the table conferencing with Kaidoh, pencil tapping against the table and a sly smile on his face. Kaidoh had his usual aloof expression, but he seemed to be rather interested in what the other was saying. He watched as Inui pushed his notebook a little closer to Kaidoh, and Kaidoh peered down at the paper with curiosity.

Beside them, Kawamura who had come back to his senses, was trying to pull apart Momoshiro and Kikumaru from having a brawl. They both seemed to be fighting over the last piece of sushi. "I'll get some more, just a second," Kawamura kept saying, but they both ignored him and tried to grab for the last piece.

Fuji stared into his drink with a smile on his face, almost mirroring Ryoma's own. Oishi had lost all control of trying to keep everyone calm and had resulted to sitting next to Tezuka by the counter where it was calmer. Tezuka was – Ryoma felt his heart thump – was sitting there looking perfectly handsome and oblivious to every one of Ryoma's sneaky glances.

The warm and fuzzy feeling in Ryoma's chest grew, until it overwhelmed his entire body. He felt bright and free and normal. He felt like _himself. _

"Yo, Echizen! Seriously, are ya gunna help get the last piece of Sushi or not? – Waah, Kikumaru-senpai, be careful, you almost pulled my shorts off! HELP ME ECHIZEN!"

Ryoma simple closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and laughed, the chaos of his senpai-tachi music to his ears.

* * *

**Also, I'm going to personally PM everyone who reviews on the last chapter to thank them, but I won't be able to if you don't login, so I suggest if you decide to leave a review, login! :DDD Thanks for all the support so far!**


	26. To Embrace

** Crumbling**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**Author's Notes: **Last chapter! Wow, I'm…I feel so proud. I want to thank you guys for supporting me through writing my very first completed story that could be considered novel length. Sure, it's a very _short _novel length, but it still counts. *Wipes tears* I feel like I really improved near the end of the story, and I hope to continue improving. I hope the last chapter is good enough, and thanks so much for all the reviews that just lit up my day!

**Warnings:** Weekly-ish updates. OOC big time on Rinko.

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*****PLEASE READ THIS *****

**I think there was a misunderstanding with some people about the last chapter. I know I stated at the end of the last chapter about the private message thing, so some people thought that w**_**as **_**the last chapter. I was actually saying it for **_**this **_**final chapter beforehand. Sorry for the confusion! Anyway, I know it seemed like the last chapter, and I guess I could have left it there, but I wanted to end it with TezuRyo! My inner fangirl had to! Enjoy!**

*******PLEASE READ ABOVE******

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Tezuka sat by himself at the marble counter. The table farthest from the kitchen hooted with laughter and chatter – the Seigaku team being silly as usual. Ryoma was wedged between Kikumaru and Momoshiro, a smirk on his face as he told Momoshiro off. This – _this _was exactly what Tezuka had wanted, and his heart felt so warm when he saw Ryoma finally relaxing.

The past few days had been so hard for the younger boy – Tezuka had seen sides of him he would never have imagined seeing. He had seen the tennis rookie _cry_ – not once, but three whole times. He had seen the vulnerable part of the ever-confident boy, the part he always managed to hide. All of it had been so stressful, and now, he could see Ryoma was finally unwinding.

Tezuka himself felt better than he had in days. Ryoma was happy – and that meant he was happy too. There were still a few things he was confused about, but the questions would be answered in time. He wanted to know why his heart thumped furiously whenever Ryoma came near him, and why he got an unexplainable desire to kiss him when they were face to face.

Sometimes, he thought about confronting Ryoma about it, but he knew he should wait. Ryoma was still fragile, and the last thing he needed was more drama in his life. Tezuka decided he would let things run normally – smoothly – and then maybe one day, when he got the courage, he would try to explain these awkward feelings to Ryoma.

"Buchou?"

Tezuka blinked. He had been stirring his coffee absentmindedly, and now, the boy occupying his mind was standing right in front of him. Ryoma chewed on a piece of sushi. His smile was bright and his bruises looked almost invisible compared to the fire in his eyes.

"Ah, yes Echizen?" Tezuka asked.

"Not Echizen," Ryoma's smile turned into a frown. "Ryoma, remember?"

"Yes. Yes, Ryoma," Tezuka let the name run smoothly off his tongue. He didn't know why he had called Ryoma by his last name again – it was probably in the moment of panic. It was hard to act casual in front of the preteen when his entire heart felt giddy.

Ryoma stared at him. "I'm done."

Tezuka took a sip. "Done what?"

"Eating sushi. And talking with my senpai-tachi."

Tezuka adjusted his glasses. He cradled the coffee closer to his chest. "I see. And? Do you want to go home?"

"No," Ryoma said. He straightened up and looked Tezuka in the eye. "Let's go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yeah," Ryoma pulled his cap down lower. He reached out and touched Tezuka's arm. The latter was relieved he was wearing his jersey because if Ryoma had made contact with his bare skin open, Tezuka wasn't sure if he would have been able to contain his shiver.

"Ryoma-"

"Please. Oishi-senpai and Kikumaru-senpai always do stuff together. We should too. Let's go."

Tezuka closed his mouth that had parted the slightest. He couldn't believe Ryoma was asking this – the way he said it, he made it sound like it was almost a _date_. Really, Tezuka had no idea why Ryoma suddenly wanted to go for a walk. They would be walking back home anyway, so it was kind of pointless. Tezuka stared at Ryoma's gold eyes, shiny and full of hope.

"Fine," Tezuka sighed. He reached out and squeezed Ryoma's hand, and warmth spread over the both of them. "But I will decide where we go."

Ryoma's eyes lit up, but he tried to conceal his excitement. All he could feel was the twist of his stomach and the brush of Tezuka's skin against his fingers.

"Okay," the small boy finally said. "Lead the way, buchou. You do that best, anyway."

* * *

Fuji could see Ryoma and Tezuka inching away towards the doors. He smirked. _Haa, leaving without saying goodbye? _He glanced under the table where he had rested his tennis bag. _I forget why I brought my tennis rackets with me, but I wonder…_The prodigy leaped out of his chair and excused himself towards where Tezuka and Ryoma were. His fist curled around the tennis bag.

"Escaping, are we?" Fuji grinned slyly. "Didn't even bother to give a farewell."

Tezuka didn't look fazed. Ryoma just smirked, one hand in his pocket.

"Well, before you both leave to do whatever you're doing," Fuji waggled his eyebrows at the end of the sentence, before he handed the tennis bag to Tezuka. "In case you get bored, or if things get awkward, tennis is always an option."

"Fuji-" Tezuka started.

"No need to thank me," Fuji said pleasantly. He nodded at Ryoma once before swiftly walking back towards the table where the rest of the regulars were seated. Tezuka sighed and and looked down at the tennis bag in his arms. He glanced at Ryoma who had a smile on his face.

"We should play a game."

"Ryoma," Tezuka said. "Weren't you just complaining about how tired you were?"

Ryoma's eyes glinted. "I'm not anymore."

"Ryoma, you're not in a healthy condition to play tenni-"

"-But I-"

"Look," Tezuka said. He wouldn't let Ryoma's stubbornness win this time. "You said I got to choose where we go. And we're not going to the courts."

"Can we just play one game?" Ryoma asked.

Tezuka narrowed his eyes and shook his head firmly. The look on his face made Ryoma swallow back his complaint. Maybe he was going too far, taking liberties with the captain. Even though they had grown closer over the past few days, he was still the buchou, and Ryoma knew he should probably just nod and obey.

_But damn, I want to play tennis. How am I supposed to beat Oyaji if I miss valuable practice days like this?_

"Fine," Ryoma pushed the exit door open. It was a little darker now, but oranges and deep pinks still coloured the sky. The sound of the train rushing overhead was faint in the distance. The moment they stepped into the cool air, Tezuka's hand latched onto Ryoma's.

This time, Ryoma didn't feel awkward nor annoyed. It felt so natural that he barely realized that they were holding hands, and that most boys didn't do that.

The walk was rather silent. Tezuka focused on the small fingers he was holding – admittedly, they weren't _that _small, but compared to his own hand, they felt tiny – and the footsteps of the boy as he kept alongside him. He could feel something bugging Ryoma – a stir of challenge, a determined goal.

"Buchou?" Ryoma looked up and Tezuka found himself staring down at nervous gold eyes.

"Yes?" the captain asked tentatively.

"I know you already said no, but can we please play tennis? Not a game even, just light rallying." When he saw Tezuka's face, Ryoma added, "_Really _light rallying."

There was a split second of silence and Ryoma waited to be scolded. The response that came next surprised him.

"Okay," Tezuka said quietly. "If you insist."

* * *

Tezuka suspected agreeing to Ryoma was worth it. He seemed in a considerably brighter mood, no longer grumpy, and his eyes were on fire. That was something Tezuka had truly missed – Ryoma's full eyes, lit and determined. It had been awhile since he had seen the raging storm flecked in those pupils, and Tezuka was beyond glad to see it come back. Their walk towards the street tennis courts continued to be fairly quiet. Tezuka himself knew he wasn't one to start small talk, and Ryoma tended to be pretty aloof as well, so they pretty much didn't interact.

It didn't matter. Tezuka felt content just holding Ryoma's hand.

"Am I allowed to try my twist serve?" Ryoma asked at one point.

"No."

"What about…Drive B?"

"No."

"Drive A?"

"Most definitely not."

Ryoma made a discontented noise and pulled his fingers apart from Tezuka's so he could fold his arms behind his head. His shoes brushed across the sidewalk. "When I said light rallying, I didn't mean like, really light…"

"That's what you said," Tezuka reminded him. "I agreed to _really_ light rallying. As in, underhand serves."

Ryoma stopped for a moment, then frowned and jogged up to catch up to Tezuka. "Underhand serves? That's so lame, buchou."

"Also," Tezuka said, apparently not fazed. "You won't run around the court. You will stand in the center and I will make sure to pass the ball so that you don't have to move."

Ryoma furrowed his brow. "That's not even tennis."

Tezuka shook his head. "Of course it's tennis. It's like the Tezuka zone."

"Yeah, except I'm not _doing _anything except swinging the racket."

"Swinging the racket _lightly_."

Ryoma didn't like this, but he supposed he had no choice. He understood that Tezuka was simply being protective of his injuries – in all honestly, he was lucky the captain had agreed to any tennis at all. Ryoma himself didn't mind if they played a full out game. Even though he was sore and some parts still hurt, it was minor enough for him to just look past it and play. _I want to play a real game with buchou. Not rallying._

"Here we are," Tezuka grabbed Ryoma's hand and guided him towards the empty street courts. The younger boy had a pout on his face and Tezuka sighed.

"I know you want to play a real game, but that's not going to happen."

"But _why_?" Ryoma tried to argue. "I'm the one who would be in pain, not you. Why do you care?"

A flame erupted in Tezuka's eyes – and Ryoma was startled to identify it as anger.

"Why do I care?" Tezuka snapped, but his voice stayed steady. "You're my teammate, my kouhai. _Of course _I care. Your pain is my pain."

Ryoma stared at him with wide eyes. His cheeks burned in shame.

"Sorry," he mumbled. There was a tense silence. After a short moment, Tezuka sighed and rested his hand atop Ryoma's head.

"It's okay. Just don't push yourself. I'm not letting you have a real match only because I care about your well-being. Do you understand that?"

This time, Ryoma knew better than to argue. He simply gave a little nod to show his agreement. He still felt embarrassed for getting the captain angry by asking such a stupid question. Tezuka was right - _obviously _Tezuka cared about his pain. He wouldn't have helped him so much if he didn't.

As they walked past the clunky fence and into the courts, Ryoma felt his thoughts dissolve into nothing as he felt a peaceful welcoming ease over him. The familiar scent of the vibrant green grass and rumpled nets beckoned him to play. He swiftly walked over to the closest side of the court to the entrance, a small smile on his face.

It had only been approximately a week since he had played tennis, but to Ryoma, it felt like it had been forever.

He was so occupied in taking in the fresh familiarity of the tennis courts against the sunset that he barely noticed Tezuka step beside him. The older boy handed him a racket.

"Here,"

Ryoma nearly grabbed the item from Tezuka's fingers, eagerness clear in his face. He let his hands slide over the grip. Tezuka watched as the boy grinned and swung his racket over his shoulder.

"Ready to play, buchou?"

Tezuka's eyes ran over Ryoma's bruises wearily. "Yes. Light rallying, remember."

Ryoma rolled his eyes. "How could I forget?"

Tezuka ignored the sarcasm dripping in his tone and took his position on the other side of the court. Ryoma angled his racket in preparation.

"Ready?" Tezuka asked.

Ryoma bent his knees and smirked. Taking that as a response, Tezuka slowly let the ball fly up into the sky. With the gentle twist of his body, the ball connected with his racket and he let a beautiful underhand sail across the net.

Ryoma stared at it in disbelief. Beautiful and painfully _slow._

With a frown, the preteen hit the ball back with as much force as he possibly could. He winced as pain shot up his arm but winced even more when Tezuka returned his shot equally as slow as the previous serve. "Are you serious?" Ryoma murmured. To his dismay, the ball also came right towards him with pinpoint accuracy, so he didn't even have to move to return it.

Tezuka, on the other side, frowned at how fierce Ryoma's shots were.

"I thought I told you to take it easy?" the captain called. He tapped the ball delicately past the net. Ryoma growled in frustration.

"_Too _slow," he snapped back.

"This is what light rallying is," Tezuka scolded gently. He continued to hit soft, light balls, that even Horio or Ryuuzaki's granddaughter were capable of returning. He could see the frustration in Ryoma's eyes, but was even more worried about how hard the 12-year old was hitting the ball back. He looked like he was trying to provoke Tezuka into hitting harder shots.

"Ryoma," Tezuka said firmly. When the ball sailed over the net to his side, instead of hitting it with his racket, he caught it with his hand. "Stop hitting so hard. You're putting too much pressure on yourself."

"I'm _not._" Ryoma said. He bent his knees further and gritted his teeth. "Serve."

_I want to play a game, dammit. I'm not some wimpy girl who can't handle hitting a heavy ball. _

Tezuka didn't make a move to restart the rally. "Echizen," his voice was stern, and Ryoma knew that should stop arguing. The captain had even called him by his last name. "I understand that this is very boring for you. However, you're the one who wanted to play tennis, and I'm not risking the chances of you furthering your injuries."

"But my arm's fine."

"You have a few bruises."

"But they don't _hurt. _I'm just a bit sore, that's all."

Tezuka sighed. "Okay, I'll make the shots a bit faster, but I don't want you to return them with such power. Remember, we're taking it easy."

Ryoma glared at the ground. "Fine."

The next few shots made Ryoma frustrated all over again – they were a tad bit faster but way too easy for him to handle. However, after a little bit of rallying, he kind of forgot about his irritation and simply enjoyed the sound of the ball as it impacted with the racket and hit the ground with a thud. He had missed this feeling, with the breeze entangled in his hair and his full attention on nothing but tennis.

"This is fun," Ryoma said as he impatiently waited for the ball to reach him. When it did, with excellent timing, he took a step back and let it whiz towards the captain. He had listened to Tezuka and hit with only 50% of his power, and he was a little glad he had now. His arm was starting to hurt after playing for a while, and he knew if he had kept up his stubbornness, he would have been too tired in less than half of what they had played so far._ Again, how come Tezuka-buchou is always right? It's so unfair!_

"I thought you were upset about the slow balls," Tezuka said as he easily returned each shot.

Ryoma shrugged. "I am, but boring tennis beats no tennis at all."

Tezuka didn't respond to that and so they continued to swiftly pass shots. Ryoma still disliked being stuck in the same spot because no matter where he hit the ball, Tezuka always managed to return it directly to where he was standing. _I don't even have to move, _Ryoma thought bitterly. Feeling a bit angry again, he hit the ball harder than necessary.

Startled at the change of pace, Tezuka returned the shot awkwardly. The ball soared high above them.

_Heeh…_ Ryoma's eyes perked. _My chance!_

Tezuka watched the smile grow on Ryoma's face as the boy started to run forward. He watched as the two sneakers lifted perfectly off the ground and hopped into the evening air, the glow of the sky reflecting off of Ryoma's cheek.

Tezuka wanted to shout – _No, Ryoma, no smashing allowed! This is light rallying!_ – but his entire throat felt like it was clogged up. Against the dying sun, Ryoma floated in the air, racket extended to smash the ball. His whole face gleamed with joy.

_He's flying, _Tezuka thought, and his heart overpowered his rules. _Fly, Ryoma, fly._

A moment later, Tezuka felt a strong gust of wind as the ball whooshed past him and hit the ground hard. It bounced onto the fence and clattered to the ground. Ryoma landed firmly on his feet with a grin on his face, but the grin disappeared quickly enough.

"Ow," he groaned, and dropped his racket to clutch his bruised arm.

In a flash, Tezuka snapped out of his thoughts and hurried over to the other side of the court. His eyes flecked with worry as he saw Ryoma rub his forearm with a dazed expression. Tezuka put a hand on Ryoma's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. "Are you alright? Did that hurt?"

"A little," Ryoma grimaced. He shook his arm out. "Not too bad, though. Plus, it was worth it."

Tezuka stared into his eyes deeply. "Please Ryoma, be careful. You're always worrying me."

"I-" Ryoma's words were stuck in his throat. His face went hot. "I'm sorry for worrying you, buchou. I just wanted to play a little. But honest, it doesn't hurt much at all."

Tezuka sighed and finally let go of Ryoma's shoulders. He looked down at the boy fondly. "Alright, that was a good smash Ryoma. But I think that's enough for the day. You're probably tired."

"Not really-" Ryoma began, but stopped when he saw Tezuka raise his eyebrow. He grumbled under his breath. "Fine, we'll stop."

Tezuka nodded in satisfaction. Ryoma reluctantly put his racket into Fuji's bag, a frown on his face the entire time. He, once again, knew Tezuka was right – the captain was _always _right – yet Ryoma still wanted to play more. Tennis was the kind of sport that once you began playing, it took forever until you were ready to stop.

"Are we going home now?" Ryoma asked. He paused. "I mean, to your house."

It was funny how much he considered Tezuka's place home now even though he'd only been there for a few days. Every time he entered the house, a warm feeling exploded in his chest. Tezuka's house made him feel safe and comfy.

"We could, if you're tired," Tezuka's eyes flitted to the giant willow tree. "Or we could sit and relax for a bit."

Ryoma followed Tezuka's gaze. He smiled softly.

"I'd like that."

* * *

Ryoma stretched his legs out and leaned his back against the bark of the tree. Dew-sprinkled grass tickled his bare skin, and the sky had darkened almost to night. Beside him, he could hear Tezuka's soft breathing as the captain zipped up Fuji's tennis bag.

"Good thing Fuji-senpai forced us to take his tennis bag, right?" Ryoma said after a moment.

Tezuka nodded. "Somehow, Fuji always knows what to do."

There was a short silence. Ryoma pulled at a clump of grass. "I don't know about that. I think_ you_ always know what to do. You're _never _wrong."

The wistfulness in Ryoma's voice made Tezuka want to smile. "I suppose."

"Have you ever been wrong?" Ryoma asked curiously.

Tezuka glanced over at his serious face. "Do you remember when I faced Atobe and played until my arm hurt?"

"Hm." Ryoma scooted closer to Tezuka so that their legs brushed. The older male swallowed and tried to focus on staying collected.

"Yes, well, I was wrong to push myself so recklessly."

Ryoma skimmed his fingers along the grass. "Oh."

"However," Tezuka reassured him, "If I was to repeat what happened, I would have done it the same way."

Ryoma leaned his head back with a contemplating expression. For a minute, Tezuka worriedly tried to figure out why the boy wasn't responding. He seemed to be in deep thought, brows furrowed, a faraway look in his eyes. Tezuka reached and entwined their fingers to snap Ryoma out of his daydream. When the boy jerked his head to look up, Tezuka was shocked to see Ryoma's gold eyes shine with tears. "You know," Ryoma blinked furiously and rubbed at his eyes. "I never knew you were this nice buchou. I always admired you, of course, but I never thought…I never thought you would help me _so _much…like you did…"

Tezuka's breath caught. "Ryoma-"

"No, wait. Let me finish. I didn't tell anyone because I didn't think there was any point – I didn't even want to tell _you_, but you forced me to tell you. At the time, I thought you were mean and were invading my privacy…" Ryoma smirked and wiped his eyes firmly. "but I don't know how I'm ever supposed to return the favour of everything you've done."

"You don't need to."

"Hm?"

Tezuka's face was warm. "You don't need to return the favour. Ryoma, you're my kouhai and teammate. It's my job to help you."

"I know, but still," Ryoma said. He frowned. "Thank you so much."

Tezuka stared at Ryoma's flushed face and glistening eyes. The delicate smile on his face was so beautiful that it reminded Tezuka of an innocent child. _Wait, Ryoma is an innocent child. Perhaps not __very__ innocent, but he's only twelve all the same. _The captain's heart thudded loudly in his ears, and something in his mind urged him to _do _something – to take a leap. He was always one to think everything through before he acted. Not this time.

_Just do something. To show him how special he is to you._

Tezuka closed his eyes and ignored his nerves. In another split second, he wrapped his arms around Ryoma's waist and lifted the boy into the air.

"Hey, wha-"

Then, he promptly placed the small boy in his lap.

Ryoma's eyes widened. He could feel the grip of Tezuka's arms around his stomach, and he hoped the captain couldn't feel his breathlessness. _What is he doing? He just put me in his lap…I mean, I'm not complaining or anything…but…what? _Ryoma's face flushed red and he stared intently at the grass. He didn't trust his throat to let him talk.

Tezuka, meanwhile, was horrified. _What have I done? I just…what did I just do? I really can't do this to a twelve-year old. Even though we aren't actually doing anything. But he's not moving away, and he seems kind of comfortable. So maybe it's okay?_

"Um…" Ryoma finally spoke. His voice sounded constricted.

"In case you were cold," Tezuka said vaguely. He swallowed hard. _Since when did Ryoma make me so nervous? Since when do I even get nervous?_

"Oh. I see.

Tezuka didn't reply anymore. He sat rigidly holding Ryoma in his arms. A few long minutes passed until Ryoma finally relaxed his shoulders and leaned against Tezuka's chest. Now that Ryoma seemed comfortable, Tezuka also felt his tension disappear.

"It's almost dark," the older boy stated.

Ryoma nodded. The sunset was gone, and the sky was turning a dark indigo. The lampposts from the street courts brightened the area enough so that he could see Tezuka properly. He wondered if it was going to be a clear night or a cloudy one – he hoped for clear. Then they'd be able to see the stars.

"We should head home. It's getting too dark."

Ryoma shook his head. "No, let's stay a bit longer."

Tezuka frowned, but complied. His grip tightened around Ryoma and the boy pleasurably closed his eyes. The night was still and perfect - and for once, Ryoma didn't have a single comment to make. He just wanted to stay here forever, warm in Tezuka's hold, his mind empty of thoughts. He felt his heart beat speed up as Tezuka brushed his fingers over his bruises.

"Do they hurt anymore?" Tezuka touched the one on the side of Ryoma's face gently. Ryoma winced but shook his head.

"Nothing hurts anymore, buchou."

He meant it, too. He tried to think about his mother, and the hatred in her eyes, but he didn't feel the painful stab in his chest. The crazy woman was replaced with the warmth and care of Tezuka. In a way, he didn't regret everything that had happened. He had lost his mother – but he had earned a friend. Perhaps Tezuka had always been his friend, but they had never been as close as they were now.

"You're very strong," Tezuka whispered in his ear. Ryoma closed his eyes and nodded. Maybe he was strong.

Up in the air, the night sky was clear and dark. Ryoma tried to let go of all his thoughts, all the pain he'd been through, and instead only focused on the present. Tezuka's arms were strong around his waist – protective, radiating with warmth. The night was dangerous – to be alone, he might have even been frightened. But he had Tezuka by his side, and that made him fearless.

"Thank you," Ryoma said.

Tezuka's arms only tightened around him in response, and they both forgot about everything that had happened except the bond they shared.

* * *

**The End! Thanks so much for reading and enjoying my story! I'll be personally PM thanking everyone who reviews...for those who reviewed on the last chapter thinking it was the last one, I apologize! I didn't mean to confuse people! **

**On that Note: **I'm thinking of writing a Thrill pair next…maybe… :/ What do you think?


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